


pixelated

by aaailieee



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, BPD, Bipolar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2020-04-12 11:59:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19131592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aaailieee/pseuds/aaailieee
Summary: Hinata loves retro gaming and Naruto likes to fuck up with game codes.Or how Hinata and Naruto got through old stuff by playing games and taking care of flowers.





	1. day one : ? hours left

**Author's Note:**

> ahh, my first fanfiction out there, and written in english! as a french writer im proud of that shdjjs. the rating and the tags may seem a little bit out of place next to the first chapter, but i didn't want to have any bad surprises, so yeah. yes, this fic will contain serious stuff so if you're not able to digest all of those themes please read something else. ahh, anyway, i hope that you will enjoy the first chapter!

Hinata loved the smell of hot chocolate on fresh winter nights, the warm feeling of a soft blanket over her fair skin and the crippling fire in the chimney. She loved the sounds her guitar made when she ran her fingers gently over the cords. Loved the softness of her thick lavender socks and the soothing warmth of the tea sliding through the walls within her throat. She was in love with the smell of new books and the smoothness of the white paper. When the rain would touch her closed window, asking for attention, she would open it slightly, letting the smell of the water reach her nostrils. What fell directly from the sky would find home on the carpet of her room, enveloping her being with a cold closeness that would give her shivers every time.

Hinata still preferred the freezing snow over the cold rain. She loved the crackling sounds it made whenever she would step on it on fresh mornings, or the way it filled the world with a pure white coat. Sure, sometimes she fell because of it, and her boots would get wet, soaking her socks in the process. And sure, it looked ugly and would turn brown when it melted, but this was because of the dirty city and the darkness of the individuals that would tarnish it. She believed that the snow was much more prettier, and much more sublime on top of mountains. Even though she didn't think she could one day reach it, it still looked magnificent in her dreams.

She loved it so much because it would erase the stinging loneliness she would feel over the course of time, changing her mood drastically and allowing her to feel the fresh breeze of nature again. When the bright white would appear on the streets and the cold air enter her lungs, she would feel a sparkle in her eyes form and flowers grow in her lower belly from sole excitement. This is what made the snow so amazing to her. Because through the redness of her nose and it's incessant running, snow would always send warm waves of happiness through her being, and shine on the remaining dust that sadness left in her heart. And don't even mention the way the sun would shine and make the snow sparkle. 

The sun would always make the snow shine.

Whenever her friends would come over her house, she would ornate their hair with flowers, different accessories and heart shaped barrettes. They would recommend different horror and gore movies for them to play through the night, but she would be reticent most of the time, being more romance oriented and a little bit too sensible to watch hearts getting ripped out of a random guy's chest. When she would actually agree to watch these kind of movies with them, she would snuggle next to Ino's side, resting her head on her breasts, rolled tightly in a blanket like a cinnamon-roll. The blond would run her fingers in the silk-like threads that were her hair strands, and Morpheus would take her away in a comfortable sleep. She wasn't a light sleeper, so the screams and stressful music emanating from the screen wouldn't wake her up. Plus, her friends were always careful about that and constantly lowered the sound so that it wouldn't startle her.

Sometimes they agreed and watched that romantic movie she hopelessly wanted to see, even though Ino would rant on and on and complain about the fact that she had already seen it with her boyfriend. Whatever she said, she was always the first to shed a tear and swear whenever the protagonist would do something stupid. Her behavior always brought giggles up Hinata's throat, never failing in painting a smile over her face. Sometimes Sakura would lose her temper and urge Ino to shut her mouth, and that would be funny too.

What Hinata loved the most about romantic movies was the bubbles it brought to her lower belly and the light squeeze to her heart. She would look at the couple fondly when cute scenes would come up, and her eyes would sparkle with a warm light of affection when they would kiss for the first time. Even though she wasn't in a relationship nor in love with anybody – other than that one actor she followed on every social media he had – she still liked watching them. They didn't make her feel hollow or sad. No. Just like the snow, they would ignite a warm fire in her lower belly, and stretch a smile on her porcelain face.

When they didn't watch a movie, they would talk boys and patisseries over the soft sounds Sakura's ukulele made when she played it, pink pajamas and white fur socks on. Ino would braid her hair with talented hands and swift fingers and tuck blue and violet flowers in her indigo strands, bluebells tinkling next to her ear. Staring at her reflection in the pocket mirror Tenten handed her, she would blush and tuck a flyaway lock behind her ear, averting her gaze every once in a while from her imposing figure on the flat glass. Sometimes they tried on some clothes they bought during the day. Ino would try to force a shirt down her chest, when it was obvious that it was way to short for her imposing breasts. Sakura would laugh at her and pinch her waist, but they both knew it was only teasing and laugh it off in the end.

When they didn't watch a movie, talk, braid hair or try on clothes, they cooked. Most of the time it was pizzas and ice cream and cinnamon rolls and chips and peanut butter and jelly and all of these greasy and sweet things you weren't allowed to eat in huge quantities. But when they would do things with their own hands, it was spices and vegetables and meat and way too much things for four young women. Sometimes they attempted to bake a cake to accompany the tea, but they would end up covered in flour with three broken eggs at their feet. Sure, it was funny, so funny Hinata would feel tears running down her face, cheeks hurting from laughing way too much and abs stinging a bit. But cleaning the mess they've made of themselves and her kitchen was exhausting. They agreed that cakes were out of the run.

Still, Hinata spent great times around her friends, even if they were clumsy and chaotic and left her apartment a mess. She did get out of her apartment though. Whether it was to go out and spend time with Kiba at the dog park, or have a bubble tea with Shino and the kids he baby-sited, Hinata was never in for too long. She enjoyed being outside, but still the comfort of her couch and her soft blankets were unbeatable.

When she was alone at home, she spent most of her time sketching on her desk, studying anatomy and perspective, gardening – because god knows how much she loved plants – or facetiming Hanabi. While her sister ranted about her day at school and how her new target – one boy she called Konohamaru – was kind of cute, Hinata drew, added watercolor to her new piece and nodded throughout her story telling. But what Hinata enjoyed the most was hidden in the commode that sustained her television. It was cables and buttons, slight dust over old software and cartridges with bright pictures over them.

Yes, she was fond of retro gaming.

When the opening title played on her flashy screen, a raging adrenaline would begin to run in her veins, causing her heart to stammer a little bit too hard inside her rib-cage. But it was okay; she loved the way she felt when she would turn on the console and the funky music would begin to play. It was amazing. Yes, she did spend a lot of money on these little babies, and she might have too much of them – so much she needed two shelves unit to organize all of it – but she just adored them so much. Sometimes they got expensive as rare pieces were, well, rare pieces and not easy to find and buy. Because yes, the hardest part was to afford them. When she was younger, around sixteen, it was easier to pay for these kind of games as people didn't care much about them and thought that they didn't have much valor. So she could purchase her games without too much trouble and make great deals. But now that she was in art school, working part time at the coffee shop and the florist, prices were escalating. Maybe people found an interest in retro gaming. It was a great thing for sure, that meant that she could befriend more people who were into the same thing as her, but the stinging pain that an empty wallet brought to her heart still was hard to get used to. Deep down, she knew she couldn't ever get used to it.

Yet, the urge to run and buy new games was too strong and present in her being for her to simply ignore. So after brushing lightly her hair, putting on her coat, straightening her long camel skirt and lacing her shoes, Hinata was out in the cold. After taking public transports – because she still didn't take driving lessons – and running a little bit to arrive on time, Hinata would find herself in these huge yard sales. Just like now.

Most of the time she would go through every stand, look at each of their product in search of an unknown beauty that would catch her gaze. Sometimes she would start a conversation with the seller and maybe even have a laugh – well take her time. But now, she had just one goal.

Find one guy – or one girl – that sold the cartridge of Zelda Majora's Mask.

Sellers, most of the time, didn't actually know how much valor these games had and just decided to sell them because they found them in their garage or whatever. Sometimes some people sold their games for really low prices, as it was what their children or cousin or any other relative played when they were younger. Not that she was complaining. Not at all. She could say that ignorance definitely had some advantages in some cases. Getting a new game for eight dollars when it could have costed her twenty or thirty was amazing.

She already had the standard cartridge of the game, but it was close to death as dust was getting into its system, time eating away its lifespan. She would have to blow into it repeatedly for the graphics to show up on the screen. It was one of her oldest pieces ; she got it when she was fairly young actually, being a fan of the franchise for quite some time. She remember playing it for hours, and even Hanabi would tag along, sucking on a popsicle. It was even her that beat the first boss that Hinata encountered, since she was kind of nervous about it. She didn't want to lose after getting so far in the game! Yes, Hanabi never played, not even once, but she did actually kill the big monster and proceeded to hand the game controller to Hinata with a smug look transplanted on her face. Hinata was sure that if her sister wasn't here, she would have been able to beat it herself. It was just that, you know, in the heat of the moment, the adrenaline and all, she was way too anxious to face the big guy.

So, after she completed her one hundred percent of the game, she got back on her feet and got into the boss room. Adrenaline pulsing in her veins and quick heartbeats pushed her to finish him off in less than five minutes. After getting out of the temple, she felt pride grow in her veins.

She walked for about ten minutes before her eye caught one golden cartridge among many other silver ones. Here, surrounded by a multitude of other games, was the beauty she longed for so long. Finally, finally, she was able to get her hands on it–

“Hinata ?”

_Eh?_

At the mention of her name, she looked up from the pile of cartridges in front of her and stared at the man in front of her. She could feel her mouth open in shock.

“Oh...! Mister Umino! I didn't expect to see you around here.” She exclaimed, a look of surprise plastered over her face.

“Ah well, I had some stuff in my house that I wished to throw away to save some space. I figured that I could make some money out of them, so I decided to sell them. – Ah, and I already told you that you could call me Iruka!” he said, a smile over his tanned face.

She for sure didn't expect to find anyone she knew around here. A slight blush bloomed across her face features. Well, now, she couldn't hide her adoration for these old babies anymore, Iruka having witnessed her slight drooling and over excitement when she stared at the cartridge, a strong fire burning in her eyes.

Iruka was the owner of the flower shop she was working part-time in. He was a very kind men who loved plants dearly. Whatever he touched with his magic fingers turned into a beautiful garden of vivid colors. His tanned skin mixed well with the bright green of the verdant interior. He had that scar over his nose that made Hinata very curious when she first started working with him. One day, after gathering up the courage to ask him, he laughed for a short period of time before saying that it was 'the casualties of work'. Well, she could guess she could go with that.

“What about you? I never thought I would see you in these kind of places.”

Ah yes. She had to explain why she was here.

“Well, um, I was looking for things. Yes, things to decorate my apartment.”

“Things? I saw you stare at that game cartridge for quite some time, I'm sure it isn't made to be put in a frame or over a counter.” Iruka said, a playful smile stretching his chapped lips.

She couldn't try and hide her little – yes, little – adoration for these fine articles. It wasn't like mister Umino was going to judge her or anything. Considering the fact that they've been working for quite some months now and that they were pretty close for co-workers, it was normal to let him know about her likes and dislikes, right ? She didn't even know how she managed to hide it all this long.

“Well, actually, I came because, um, I saw that one game I was searching for was being sold here, so, erm, since I really wanted to get it, I came.” Light pink dust spread over her pale cheeks. Why was she so embarrassed ?

Iruka laughed lightly. “It's this one right ?” He handed her the Zelda cartridge with care, eyes locked into hers. “My godson might have played with it a little bit, so it was used before. But it is still working like it was newly bought, promise !” He smiled again, tilting his head a little.

Hinata looked at the gold cartridge that her tiny hands cupped, inspecting it, moving it around, a ferocious intensity in her lavender eyes. It looked brand new, that was for sure. She spotted no scratches, no scrapes, not any trace of the laceration of time. It suffered no damage. Before averting her gaze back to Iruka's proud face, she noticed a logo drawn with a shaky hand over the warning directives, at the back of the piece. It looked like a fox, strong orange flashes begging for her attention. She didn't care much, probably the work of a creative kid.

“You have a godson?” She asked, a questioned look pulling at her delicate features. It seemed like they were learning new things about each other today.

“I didn't introduce you to him?” His eyebrows twisted over his forehead. “Mmh, strange, I thought you already knew each other. Do you remember that guy that sometimes helps me out with the delivery? Blond hair, blue eyes, tanned skin and ridiculous whiskers covering his cheeks.” Hinata's mouth formed a slight oh. “Yes that one!” He grinned.

Oh, that one.

Hinata could already feel herself blushing.

The first time she saw him, she was in the back of the shop, dust over her skirt and face, hands covered in a black substance she had yet to find the provenance and identity of. Iruka was running late at a meeting – well, it was actually a date, but he didn't want to admit it to her – and he asked her to check the storage for her, and clean the place a little bit. Before shutting the door behind him, he screamed something about not forgetting to throw the trash and cleaning the living room. But it was not directed at her. Iruka's apartment was right above the shop. He could access it through the stairs located next to the door of the storage room. She knew that once in a while, someone would come and live with him some days before leaving. She had yet to find who it was.

After getting ready to go home, bag over her shoulder and coat on, she opened the door of the storage room. She did clean the place. But. She didn't expect to spend so much time in there. She didn't expect to see so much dust in the corner and so much loam on the floor. She didn't expect herself to be carried away by her meticulous side and clean everything by herself.

So, when that bucket full of dull water fell on her head, knocking some things along with him in its fall, a huge cacophony roaring from the room, she didn't expect to see a pair of blue eyes stare at her with worry.

She absolutely didn't expect it.

She was drenched in cold water, bangs sticking to her forehead, long indigo hair wet, slick strands in her mouth. He took both of her shivering hands and got her back on her feet so quickly she felt stars shaking in her brain. He then proceeded to ask her lots, lots, lots of questions. She couldn't figure out what he was saying, she was too mesmerized by the sharpness of his jaw and the wild locks that ornamented his head.

He was radiant. That was a fact. Handsome was a little bit too dull of a word to describe him. It was too weak next to the radiant aura that emanated from him. He had that shade of skin that made the sun shine ever so brightly just to show off that glorious melanin of his. His eyes were a deep pool of blue. A passionate blue. Sparkles swam in there, like stars would in the darkness of the night. But, unlike the pitch darkness of midnight, the fragments of sky he had on his face were so, so bright. She wondered how they looked when he was basked in the warmth of the sunset.

“Hey, can you hear me? Did you become deaf when you fell. Ah shit, that could be problematic. We could call an ambulance or somethin'-- ah yes we're definitely calling an ambulance–“

“What?” _What?_ “N-No! Don't, I-, I'm fine!”

“Ah! You can speak! What's your name? I'm Naruto Uzumaki! Nice to meet you!” He extended his arm and presented his hand to her. Which she responded to by showcasing her darkened hands, dirty with work and labor. “Oh. Erm, wait.” He averted her gaze from her, seeming to look for something. He grabbed a towel located over her head and handed it to her. “Here,” He smiled. That, that was a bright smile.

“I'm Hinata. Hinata Hyuga. I am working part time with mister Umino...” She stared at the mess she had made of herself and the restroom, and that was when a crimson blush painted her face. So embarrassing. “I'm so sorry, for the mess...” She bowed. “I'm sorry for causing you so much trouble, I-I'll clean up everything I promise–“

“Hey, no need to be so sorry! It's okay, you didn't do it on purpose!” He grinned. “Honestly, when I heard that huge sound coming from downstairs, I thought you were a robber or somethin' like that, y'know!” He laughed. What a beautiful laugh. “But what could you rob from a flower shop, huh? There's just pots and plants, not much.” He stepped back, crouched, and began to clean up the mess. “Well, you could find pretty ladies with wet hair on the floor, covered in mud and partially mute.” Naruto smirked.

She blinked thrice before blushing a violent shade of red. She then proceeded to replace a strand of hair behind her ear and began to reorganize the storage room alongside him. At first they didn't talk much, Hinata still very embarrassed and Naruto busy with what was in his hands. But the blond couldn't be quiet for too long, so, after putting a gardening scissor back in place, he began to ask her questions while he moved around quickly. She answered them calmly, some stuttering here and there, giving him short but clear answers. She tried to avert her gaze from him as much as possible. She faced the wall instead of his face. Sometimes he would get really close, putting a box far above her head, and she would feel her face burn.

Ah, if only she was alone and nobody was here to witness her in that state.

His arm bumped her wet sleeve. “You're drenched in water.” He grimaced. “Come with me, I'll give you a shirt and a jacket, at least.” He opened the door of the room and began to walk out.

“Wha- I-I don't need clothes, it's okay! I'm okay, um. I can go home like this, please do not worry about me.” She followed him, leaving the tiny space and narrow walls.

“What ? But you'll get sick if you go out like that! Don't worry I don't mind. Plus, it's just clothes, I'm not giving away my grandparents' ashes or somethin', y'know.” Naruto grinned. He began walking up the stairs, his steps making the wood creak under his weight. She stood here, mouth slightly open, speechless, her coat and bag in hers arms.

“Are you coming?” She heard him from upstairs. She must have stood here for quite some time.

“A-Ah, um, yes!”

He offered her a dark, long sleeved shirt with a bright orange jacket. She insisted on the fact that she already had her coat and her scarf, and that she wouldn't need the jacket, but he zipped it up to her mouth, shushing her with his index. He then gave her a towel to dry her hair, and she did so with pink dust on her cheeks and nose, gaze directed to her feet. When he would ask her questions, she would always answer them. Sometimes she would even smile or giggle behind her hand at his antics.

Once finally out of the shop, a hand over her beating chest, she came to the realization that the redness of her face didn't go too well with the vivid orange of his jacket, nor the light lavender of her skirt. The slight smell that lingered on the shirt made her feel slightly dizzy, and she kind of liked it. Kinda.

The next day, she came back to the store, bowed, stuttering excuses, and then handed back his clothes, embarrassment clinging to her lower belly. Iruka was next to them at that moment, and upon hearing the story, he laughed. The situation was funny, in some ways. But since she was a little bit flustered, she got out of the shop very quickly.

Yes, that was how she met that very pretty blond boy. And she managed to make a fool of herself, all of that without even trying.

Of course, she did her best to avoid him, but whatever happened, whenever he was in town, she would always bump into him: the grocery shop, the train, the bus stop and even the laundromat! She wondered if he was following her. But of course that wasn't possible. He barely knew anything about her. When he would call out her name, the syllables rolling beautifully on his tongue, Hinata would stop running from him, turning to face him. And they would talk, he would ask questions about anything and everything, and she would answer them. He would make jokes and she would giggle behind her hand. When he looked at her, she felt like flowers were growing out of her skin. She was blooming, shining in his presence. She felt free.

But, right now, she was not free of Iruka's sluggish look.

“Ah, yes. Oh--, you're his godfather?” Her eyebrows jerked up.

“Yeah. We've known each other since he was, like, eight, or ten? Something around these numbers.” The brunette smiled. Nostalgia filled his eyes.

They did seem pretty close.

“So, that game, you want it? Your fingers don't seem to want to leave it.” Ah, yes, she was clinging to it like it was her way to paradise and eternal prosperity. She nodded, corners of her mouth quirking up a bit, and began to get her wallet out of her bag. “It was around ten right ?” She asked.

“Ehh, I was planning on giving it to you!”

“Oh, no, no, you really don't need to do that. Plus you came here to make some money, and I was already planning on emptying my pockets a little bit.” She got out 10 dollars and handed them to him. She forced the money into his hands, and after insisting and arguing for about five minutes, he agreed with a sigh, putting the bill into his wallet. They talked some more for some time, Hinata checking his other articles while answering him. Before bidding farewell, she got from him one large gray sweater and an unused sketchbook. It had a blank cover. She could probably personalize it.

Upon returning home, Hinata had a smile plastered on her face.

Once fully inside, she kicked her boots off her feet, snatched her scarf from her neck and threw her coat on the vintage arm chair in the entrance of her apartment. After cleaning her hands and getting in her pajamas – she put on the gray sweater she got earlier and bottoms with a repetitive triforce pattern, she crashed onto her couch. She took the bag she installed carefully on the coffee table upon her arrival with sneaking excitement. Taking the game out from it, she stared at it, sitting in the crest of her delicate hands. Finally.

Getting up from her spot, she got out her Nintendo 64 and plugged in the different wires: one behind her TV and the other on a white power strip. She adjusted the sound, inserted the gold cartridge into the silver slot, and, while biting her lower lip, turned the power switch on.

The big screen showcased the Nintendo logo. It shined bright in the dimly lighted room, reflecting on Hinata’s pale skin and excited eyes. It stayed there for what seemed to be an eternity to her, which was actually just a few seconds but well. And then, a black screen.

The mask of Majora appeared, turning around and around, getting closer to the screen. And then a laugh. The kind of laugh that made your stomach twist, feeling of untrust on your tongue. The mask salesman, with Majora’s mask in his hands. He smiles. Shivers down her spine.

The regular intro of the game started playing,

Hinata released a breath she didn’t realise she was holding.

This.

This was the wave of nostalgia that she was talking about.

🎭

Naruto stretched himself fully on the couch, and yawned big.

It was Saturday, 11AM. He had breakfast. A bunch of cereals thrown in a bowl and some decent amount of milk. He ate that in front of cartoons for kids. It was quite enjoyable, actually. Some scenes were funny enough to rip laughter out of his throat. By “some”, that meant, like, two thirds of them.

Now he was just laying flat on the couch. Thinking about what the hell he could do to make his day less boring.

He spent the week working on stuff for university and he was exhausted. He had finished most the work he had to do. Just some little details he had to check on later when he would be completely woken up, out from bliss.

He was specializing in programming and coding, and he actually enjoyed it a lot. When he was younger, in high school, he also liked to learn basic stuff about combustion about incineration. He remembers that he used to spend quite some time learning by heart the different elements of the periodic table that could explode and make cool things if brought together. When they began philosophy classes in senior year, he felt like he could free himself from whatever retained his mind before. It was cool, talking about stuff, trying to word it out in a special way. He still had to remember the names of the big philosophers and it was kinda frustrating, but he still did it. Dope to know you can trick people’s mind into believing the same thing as you, as long as you worded it out perfectly. A special technique of speech. Maybe he should find a name for it. 

That’s how he discovered that, when he was interested in something, he could pull it off amazingly well.

But when he didn’t dig with something, he didn’t dig at all. At. All.

Biology classes were horrible. He couldn’t stomach the teacher and the squeak of her boots on the way too clean floor. He didn’t even want to think about it. They were just horrible. English was not fun, he had too much rules to learn. And yes, it was the same for physics but at least something interested him in that class. English class was just plainly boring, and the teacher was too. Always needing complete silence but still screaming when speaking. Naruto always had a thousand question marks on his face whenever he did that. Like, ‘??????’. Why would you act this way.

PE were okay. He could run for a while and play basketball when asked to. At least he was allowed to be high on dopamine excess freely for like, one hour and half, without people asking what the fuck he was actually doing. So he jumped, ran, pushed forward and hoped for the best. Full of sweat, moist hands and sticky forehead with bangs hugging his eyebrows. But oh God. Once he started moving on the ground. The wind felt so great on his face. 

When he was rushing, it was like he could crush everyone’s bones.

But yeah that was until he was required to play ping pong. The most boring sport in the history of humanity next to golf and pétanque.

Sports were fun only when he was full of colors. When everything got down, weights were attached to every joint of his body. It was… less enjoyable. He would always get bad grades when the world turned blue. Deep Sea.

Anyway.

He chose programming and coding because creating things seemed fun. He wasn’t a prodigy of art. When he would paint, he would leave a mess on the canvas and all around him. Everyone always said that he left a mess behind him. They even said he was a mess.  
Creating stuff with a line of short, easy to remember combinations was fun. It was always satisfying to see the result of his work at the end. These kind of things didn’t require for him to learn too much boring stuff that he couldn’t keep up with so that was cool.

But he did the choice of specializing in this field because he wanted to create games.

Naruto devoted so much of his time as a child and teenager to games. Playing them, getting deep into the technical stuff, idolizing them, babying them, loving them. Playing video games as a child helped him focus on something else. He didn’t really feel like overthinking or being irritable. So he played video games. Worked in the summer to get enough money in order to buy more of them. He couldn’t always rely on Iruka or his late godfather to purchase expensive shit for him.

He remember spending so much time at Iruka’s house playing the games he just bought or the ones found in his godfather’s garage. He would take off his dirty Converse, wash his hands and run in front of the square TV. Iruka would bring two tall glasses full of orange juice for the both of them before sitting next to him. Naruto always, always started rambling about the game he was playing, explaining the story and the little details and the stuff that really had no importance at all, but still was important to him, in a way. Iruka would always listen, too. Naruto was thankful of that.

His godfather liked to praise his skills and sharp memory. Naruto felt loved.

Sometimes he would feel like playing multiplayer games. But he didn’t have many friends growing up, so he couldn’t bring any at home. Iruka would be there to hold the second controller thought. Whether it was board games like Mario Party or races like Mario Kart, his godfather would always give it a try. Sure, he wasn’t the best, and he would lose 95% of the time since Naruto spent so much time perfecting his moves. The last 5% were pure luck, the blond was sure of that.

From time to time, Iruka’s friend, Kakashi, would come and be the owner of the third glass of orange juice. Naruto constantly lost to him when the game played required tactics and brain stuff. It was not like he was dumb or anything, Kakashi was just way smarter than he was. It was still fun, playing games with two more people.

He then managed to make friends once he fully moved in Iruka’s house and paperwork was done. It was kinda complicated, and there were problems and things Naruto preferred to forget. But then Iruka was happy to see new faces next to the doorstep. Shikamaru, Choji, and Kiba. Most of the time, they played Mario Party.

Shikamaru didn’t play, he instructed. He teamed up with Choji while the later held the controller. They were a great duo, and their chemistry brought a fire within Choji’s kindness that Naruto never noticed.

Kiba and Naruto were also a great team. Just a very, very loud one. They also fought on who would hold the controller and who would play which game. But when it worked out, they would switch roles and let the other play the game they were the best at. When it was smashing sessions, Naruto was the finest. When it was about reflexes and speed, Kiba lead. They balanced themselves. But well, that was only when they did a two VS two against Choji and Shikamaru. They would make a mess out of the living room when they were against each other. Iruka would scold them then.

But it was fun. It was so much fun.

Naruto smiled and laughed so much when they were home. He bought more multiplayer games then. There were more and more orange juice filled glasses.

When the saturation fell and he started drowning, he hated multiplayer. He wanted to play solo. He wanted to kill the bugs in his ears with the loud background music. He wouldn’t tell Iruka much about the story when he was swimming in his Sea. He would just dive deep into the screen and stay quiet. Iruka would bring him orange juice but he wouldn’t touch it. Sometimes his godfather would become noisy and he would be so irritated and he just wanted him to leave him alone. Iruka would scold him, but Naruto would just scream louder. When he was angry. These weren’t very good nights.

Naruto passed a hand over his face. He shouldn’t be thinking about that.

He got up from the couch. Checked the living room out. Up. Down. Left. Right. Yeah, nothing to do. He could, like, vacuum or clean some things in the house, just to get his body going. He didn’t want to lay around and just do nothing. He didn’t want to feel like he was drowning again. He had to find something to do.

Naruto wasn’t in his house. It was Iruka’s apartment, situated above the flower shop. He came once in a while when he felt rather balanced, even slightly upbeat but not too fucked up. When he was on the extremes, Naruto thought it was better to go back to his own apartment. Sometimes he couldn’t predict the switches so eventually he would fuck things up. He didn’t like that. He felt guilty afterwards. But Iruka was always forgiving, and he would always just pretend to be mad for two minutes and then proceed to ruffle his hair affectionately. Iruka loved him, even though he was messy. Naruto felt appreciated.

He noticed the tangled wires coming out from the drawer under the TV. Ah, yes. He could untangle these to try and occupy his mind. This way he wouldn’t focus on irritating stuff. He opened his phone with swift fingers and played some catchy music. Yeah. That was great. He needed to mute everything.

Upon opening the white drawer, Naruto discovered that the wires were actually coming from an old gaming console. A Nintendo 64, more precisely. Naruto’s eyebrows quirked up, like tall twin mountains. Even the regular gray controller was here. He grabbed it, feeling the cold material against his palm. It had been so long since he actually played it. He could recall the good moments experienced with his friends. So much nostalgia. But…

Where were the games?

He frowned. Iruka would always put them next to the console so that Naruto wouldn’t turn his living space upside down just to find that one game he suddenly felt like playing. Of course that was the one he ignored for like, more than ten months without showing any interest whatsoever to it. Sometimes it would occur to him that he would feel the sudden urge to play that game. He needed to play it, now, or else he’d feel very irritated and angry.

But yeah, anyway, that wasn’t what he was supposed to think about.

Where were the games ? Iruka couldn’t have thrown them, right ? He knew that Naruto loved them a whole lot.

Ah, but his godfather told him something this morning before hurrying outside the door, hands full of bags of whatever. He said something about going out and buying something. Naruto had nodded to whichever question he had asked him. Because he was too sleepy.

But did he really mention buying?

Wasn’t it… Selling?

Oh.

He remembered now.

Iruka wanted to sell the games he didn’t use anymore.

Naruto blinked, once, twice and then thrice, before blooming an anxious smirk over his features. He couldn’t have done that… right ? But he asked for his permission. He wasn’t the one to blame, right ? But why didn’t he ask him sooner? He knew that his godson couldn’t process things very well half awake. Like most of the human population actually.

Ah these are just games, he should calm down.

Yeah.

But he really liked those games.

He truly loved those games.

(Even though he didn’t touch them for ages.)

He ran his eyes quickly over the drawer. No. Unbelievable. He even took Majora’s Mask with him?! Oh no. What is he going to do. His favorite game was probably in the hands of a stranger by now.

Naruto began furiously typing chopped up words on his phone. The target of his anger : Iruka. He sent him multiple texts with uppercase letters and exclamation points. Lots of them. And also an abusive amount of interrogation marks.

‘ _How could you do this to me???!!! Did you really sell them?? I can’t believe you DID THAT??!! I can’t believe you actually did that._ ’ and many other varieties. That was legit betrayal. He couldn’t accept it.

Of course Iruka didn’t answer in the one minute and thirty-five seconds Naruto granted him. So he called him, four times. And it was only when he tried again for the fifth time that he deigned to answer.

‘ _Naruto?_ ’ he heard Iruka’s gentle voice over the phone ‘ _Did something happen? You called me so many times!_ ’

‘Well, yeah! You basically got off with all my games!’

‘ _Ah, your games? But we agreed on selling them since you didn’t touch them for what seemed to be decades._ ’ Iruka’s voice seemed confused.

“But I was half asleep! I couldn’t recall what happened when I woke up! You did that on purpose! I’m sure of it!”

‘ _Ehh?! Listen Naruto, I don’t know why you’re so angry but i’ll tell you that ; only two games from your whooping thirty to forty have been sold. Stop freaking out. And couldn’t you at least say ‘Hello, How are you dad?’ before jumping on me?!_ ’ Ah, now he seemed annoyed.

‘Really? Only two? What a relief.’ He exhaled. What a relief. Yeah. He didn’t answer to the last thing his godfather said. ‘But wait, what were the games sold? Was there a golden cartridge with a little fox symbol over it given away?’ He gulped.

‘ _Well…_ ’ He seemed to think for a moment. ‘ _I can’t really tell about the fox symbol, but...  I know that a golden cartridge was sold._ ’

What?

“What…?! No!” Naruto only had one golden cartridge. “This was the most important one…” a whine escaped his lips.

‘ _What’s so precious about this one Naruto? Was it expensive?_ ’

“No, it’s just, like… I modified the game.”

‘ _What?_ ’

Naruto cleared his throat and began to explain himself, ‘Well, you know, i wanted to try things, like, mods and stuff and all.’ He started making weird movements with his hands, trying to put into words his thoughts. Explaining, you know. ‘Like, the game ain’t the original game, it’s-- I wanted to see how C programming would work so i did a couple things and--.’

‘ _Naruto. I don’t understand a thing._ ’

“Well--, anyway! It’s not the original game. I changed stuff, like dialogues and story and adventures and all!”

Naruto had indeed changed some – well, actually, lots of things up. He first had felt a certain desire to try some mods that were out there on internet, just to have some fun. But then he got lost and decided to change the original story, the textures and stuff characters said, because, you know, why not. And he had so much fun doing it. It just seemed like he could create his own story like that, without really needing to create a new engine to have his game run through. He just had to make a few changes and done. It was like he had the power to do whatever he wanted to.

He couldn't believe so many hours of fun and work got lost in less than five minutes or so.

It seemed like Iruka was trying to process what Naruto just said to him, because he didn't answer for what seemed like an eternity to his godson. Naruto started drumming on his thighs with his skinny fingers as impatience ran through his system.

“Hello??” Was Iruka still on the line? He could hear voices and noises coming from wherever Iruka was, but the caller on the opposite end was quieter than a sheet of paper somehow.

' _The one who took the game was Hinata, the girl who works with me. You know her right?_ ' The blond nodded, even though Iruka couldn't see him. Naruto remembered the indigo haired girl very well. He did not forget the red cheeks and the shy side glances. Iruka did not wait for his vocal answer to continue talking. ' _I can't really go to her house right now since I'll be there until four or five in the afternoon, but I can ask her if you can come get the game._ ” 

“Mmh...” His grip tightened around his phone. Losing a game right after getting it was like giving birth and discovering that your baby got kidnapped thirty minutes later. Yeah, it was that serious. Believe it. He wasn’t attracted to the idea of disappointing someone, but it still was his game. After all, he didn’t agree to giving them away. Well technically he did, but he couldn’t actually remember saying it, so that didn’t count.

“Could you give me her number, so I can contact her myself?”

🎭

What the hell was that ?

Hinata blinked, her tiny hands gripping the controller with more strength. Link, the main character of every _The Legend of Zelda_ game, wasn't supposed to be wearing a bright orange jumper and have spiky hair. When getting the game running, she was expecting a green tunic and hat, with smooth blond hair and virgin face. Not spikes and whiskers and orange and–

Whiskers? Who had whiskers anyway? 

She pushed the stick forward, making the character run. Well at least the running animation had not changed. The world seemed to be completely normal, aside from the brutal change in character design. The background music too remained true to its original self. 

She blinked again, still dumbfounded. What was this ? She was sure of one thing : it wasn't Majora's Mask, well, not fully. Few modifications had attracted her attention, but her phone started to violently shake, startling her. She pressed the red button, pausing the game, before glancing at her phone on the far end of the couch.

Meh, she forgot to put the Do Not Disturb mode on. Seemed like she was not receiving texts, as her cell began buzzing forcefully on her couch in a regular pattern. ' _Ehh, a call..._ ' Hinata didn't like calls. She had to constantly hold a conversation for what seemed to be longer than a poop break, and she hated it. If she wasn't the one calling, then it was bound to be awkward. Well, when it was Hanabi, it was okay, because she was her sister, and she was the one handling the 'conversation' part, so, yeah.

Hinata tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked at the clear screen. Many different numbers was what she saw, and that's when she knew she wasn't picking up. An unknown number? She was never answering. So she waited for the phone to stop vibrating and sighed. She was about to set the phone down next to her crossed legs and pick up the controller when it began buzzing again.

She frowned.

What if it was an important call? What if it was her father calling her from another phone for a reason she didn't know about? What if it was a friend just a friend with a new number?

What if?

' _Ahh! Now, I'll feel guilty if I don't pick up!_ ' She pursed her lips, slid her finger on the screen to answer before putting the phone next to her ear.

“Hello?” She began, her voice little and hesitant. She shouldn't have answered, it was probably just a joke, prank, or whatever.

“ _Yes. Hi. This is Naruto? Godson of Iruka. Do you remember me? Kinda been a long time since we saw each other. Ah, sorry for disturbing you but you buyed that game from my father but actually it's mine, and it's uh, kinda severely modded. So like, do you mind me showing up to your house so I can pick it up?_ ”

Eh?

Eh?

_Ehhhhh???_


	2. three hours of fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand, here is the second chapter. damn that was fast. i didn't think i could finish it in one day. well, now i know i can write 5k words in one go. special attention to the body language here. enjoy the fluffiness, some action is coming up for the next chapters!

Hinata frantically pulled her jeans up her legs. Shaking her hips left to right to get it to fit, she proceeded to arrange a few hair strands before running to her living room. He's coming. He's really coming. 

The blond boy that she met in an awkward state. Naruto with the cute whiskers, who she had a crush on.

Well, a little crush.

It's not like she was actually nervous or anything, right?

Hinata stood in the middle of her living room, eyes darting from every opposed corner of the room, trying to find something to do. Anything that she could clean up. Maybe that her couch was weirdly positioned. Should she rearrange it ? Perhaps her cushions were crooked, or her carpet appeared clumsily contorted. Was it all her imagination?

She brought her thumb and index to the corner of her lips and began picking at them in worry. Maybe that she looked too comfy in those clothes? She didn't take off the gray sweater that she got from Iruka, and even though she was in skinny jeans, she wasn't feeling really put together. Her bottoms weren't really comfortable. She wasn't fond of things that clung to her limbs like a child would to their mom. She felt free and comfortable in breathable fabric and large clothing. But she had nothing left in her wardrobe other than those skinny jeans and pajama bottoms. She wasn't going to present herself in pajama bottoms with triforces all over her legs when her supposed crush was visiting her!

She flattened her palms on her face before a shaky sigh escaped her throat. How was she supposed to handle such situation? When she had heard his voice in the crest of her ear she had felt so small. She didn't like lying so she said that she was indeed home and would be able to give the cartridge to him, but now she just wanted to disappear into a hole. She gave him her address and the number attached to her apartment with as much composure as she could, but now she feared he had misunderstood. Maybe she had stuttered way too much for her words to be understandable? Maybe that he was too respectful to ask her to repeat?

' _Ahhh, focus!_ ' She felt so embarrassed.

He said with a joyful voice that he vaguely knew where he was headed and that he would be at her doorstep in less than ten to fifteen minutes. He was on his motorcycle after all, that's what he said.

Ah, he must look really cool on a motorcycle.

And the door bell rang.

Hinata spun around, raising her head. Oh no. He was already there. How much time did she spend standing in the middle of her living room, fantasizing?

She stood here, terrified, before the bell rang a second time, more forcefully.

She basically ran to the front door, and opened it with a shaky hand, before pulling it slightly to her.

And Hinata appeared before his sight.

Here, two thirds of her body hidden behind the door, white, sparkly eyes staring up at him.

She seemed so... small. And cute? Really cute. Very cute.

Both of them seemed to be a little lightheaded when they saw each other. They breathed in at the same time, their lips slightly parting, same amounts of air in their lungs. They held onto it, and released at the same time. 

“H-Hi!” “Hey!” They spoke, simultaneously. Staring into each other eyes, they remained silent again. Before cracking up into light laughter. Yeah, definitely lightheaded.

“So, yeah, sorry for showing up to your house out of the blue.” Naruto smiled, scratching his nape with slight embarrassment. A nervous habit.

“Ah, no, don't worry, it's completely okay.” Hinata brought her hands in front of her chest, waving them left and right, trying to translate her argument into movements.

Then they stood here, for twenty seconds, without speaking, with pink dust over their cheeks. Hinata had the most.

And then it clicked.

“Ah! I'm sorry! P-Please get in.” She said, clinging embarrassment to her voice. She opened the door wide for him to step in. ' _Ahh, I'm so awkward..._ ' She wanted to hide in her hands.

“I don't really want to bother and be a hindrance, if you don't feel comfortable.” Naruto's eyebrows curved up in slight worry. She noted that his face was very expressive, including the thick blond eyebrows.

“Ah, no, don't worry. It was probably cold outside. Get inside so you'll warm up.” She smiled to him, flashing a reassuring smile.

“Okay.” He stepped in, whispering 'Sorry to intru~de' before taking of his shoes. High, black boots laced at the front. He took off his leather jacket, and a turquoise scarf that he folded with care. He placed them on the vintage armchair in the entrance, before eyeing Hinata. She had closed the door, and now leaned on it, her arms behind her back. Upon catching his glance, she blushed, and pointed towards the living room. He ruffled his hair, and grinned. Now in simple white socks, he followed her tiny steps.

Her living room was kinda tiny, but enough to fit a table, a couch, a TV and some storage unit to fit stuff in. To sum it up, it was a dual living and dining room. Light tones of cream, brown, lavender and white were found inside the four walls, ornamenting the furniture with delicacy. But the most eye-catching part of it all were the shades of green that grew on the walls, the tablecloth and the sides of the TV.

The room seemed to be full of plants. Leaves and roots invading the interior like a virus. They climbed up, seemed to search for any form of light, be it the one emanating from the light-bulb or the source hidden by the thick curtains behind the wires of the screen. They seemed to be moving along the lines of an non-existent wind that cupped Naruto's cheeks with care. At first he didn't catch any flowers in his vision, before his eyes darted to the table, where a beautiful vase stood at the center. It rose from the cream napkin with what seemed to be arrogance, showing off the mesmerizing hand-drawn patterns it sheltered on its glass figure. The vase was nothing but ethereal, sparkling as a multitude of vivid flowers surged out of it.

“That's a beautiful vase you have over here.” Naruto voiced his thoughts with much simpler words than what his mind originally produced. He wasn't very good with words.

Hinata spun around, facing him, before she glanced at the vase on top of the table. She smiled fondly, eyes suddenly deep with love, before she said “Yes, it is indeed. I was supposed to receive it for my eighteenth birthday by my mom.” Naruto looked at her. What did she mean exactly by 'supposed to' ?

She began twisting her fingers in her lap, pursing her lips together. She seemed to think about something. Her eyes took glances of his form hesitantly, round marshmallow cheeks pink. Ah, he felt like grabbing his chest where his heart resided. This sight was too painfully cute to handle. An arrow had probably been struck to his heart.

“Um, do you mind sitting on the couch? I'll bring something to snack.” She began walking towards the kitchen.

Naruto breathed in. “Y-You don't have to bother you know!” He heard her 'Don't worry!' over the walls that separated him from her. He had heard those words a few times already since he arrived here. His hands still in his pockets, he walked to the front of the couch, sitting on top of it. Woah, that was one comfortable couch. Everything here seemed to be so comfy, even Hinata seemed to be fluffy and comfy and all. Maybe that she was full of candyfloss.

On front of him was a white coffee table, the regular one you find at IKEA for around ten dollars or so. On top of it was the traditional gray N64 controller still plugged in with the console. What picked his interest was the customized exterior of the N64. Cute pink stickers were begging for his attention, so he stood up from his spot and approached the game console that he knew too well.

'That's some really cute stuff out there...' he crouched, bringing his face closer to inspect the different elements added to the black shell. He recognized a triforce sticker, one representing Peach along with Mario in pink hues and the Master Sword, its handle colored in a pastel blue. Other stickers were also placed here and there, hearts, moons, stars, bubbles, but those which stood out the most to him were the ones he listed. It was some fine and adorable pixel art. He wasn't surprised by their presence, Hinata had that kind of aura that made him want to scream CUTE, ADORABLE, CHARMING at the top of his lungs. Add an effect that would repeat his voice in multiple echos and it would be perfect.

Hinata came back with a plate full of cookies and two tall glasses of orange juice. He smiled. She positioned it on top of the coffee table and sat on the butter-like couch.

“Sorry, I've brought orange juice because I didn't know if you drank coffee, and I didn't have any chocolate powder left to make hot chocolate milk.” She adjusted a hair strand behind her ear.

“Don't mind! And, yeah, I try to avoid coffee. Makes me a little bit too upbeat.” He laughed quietly. “Plus, orange juice is the best fruit juice out there.” He nodded.

Smiling, she asked if he wanted a cookie. They weren't chocolate chip cookies, but macadamia filled ones. He started to really like this girl, she had good tastes in juices and cookies. He replied by saying “Who doesn't want cookies?” he painted an incredulous look on his face and she giggled behind he hand, returning a quiet “You're right.” He grabbed a glass of juice and she reciprocated his actions, proceeding to hand him a cookie.

It felt... comfy, all of a sudden. Naruto felt warmth spread in the center of his chest.

“I see that you've customized your N64.” He grinned, approaching her before plopping next to her.

“Ah, yes” She blushed “I wanted to give it a personal touch considering the fact that it's been a long time since I bought it.” Her eyes slightly closed as she smiled gently. Naruto felt like he could watch her smile for days on.

“Well, it's very you.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I never thought about customizing my consoles.” He lifted his eyes, looking at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I was always amazed by the stuff that people posted on social media, y'know? But like, I never thought about making my own thing. Plus I'm kinda messy. I would destroy the thing if I even think about changing anything.” He scratched the back of his neck, nervously laughing.

“Any personal touch still is a personal touch, even if some find it messy. It might be my artist side that is talking, but nothing really is messy, some may find it aesthetically pleasing actually. Plus, when you're finished, you'll be proud of your own work. I was so happy when I finished drawing those and was finally able to make stickers out of them.” She lifted the corners of her mouth with pure pride and took a bite from the macadamia cookie. She then drowned it with a gulp of orange juice.

Naruto thought for a second, processing what she said to him. And then it clicked. “Wait, you're the one who made those stickers?” He asked, excitement filling his voice and making the words resonate a little bit louder at the end of his sentence.

The blond brought his body a little bit closer to hers, angling himself to face her completely. She blushed as the sudden attention he gave her sank into her. “A-Ah, yes, I'm um, an artist. I'm in an art school.” Her eyes darted to her left, trying to avoid his burning gaze. Her fingers began working in the strands of indigo hair draped on her right shoulder.

“Whoaah! Hinata that's amazing! You're amazing.”

' _Ahh, stop, I'm already blushing..._ ' She hid her face behind one hand, whispering a low thank you. She needed to change subjects or else she would just keep increasing the level of blood brought to her face before transforming into a red teapot.

“A-About the game!” She said suddenly, orienting her eyes to the cartridge that was still attached to the console.

“Oh yeah, the game.” He straightened his back, getting slightly away from her personal red line of furious blushing. “I can't believe my father was about to sell all of my precious belongings.” He brought his fist up in the air. “I spent so much time collecting these games, losing one would be like losing your right arm.” Hinata nodded. This was definitely relatable material. He slurped the orange juice, fitting a whole cookie right after gulping the liquid down.

“Yes, I can understand that.” She put her half empty glass on the coffee table. “I'm sorry if it bothered you.”

“No, no worries, don't apologies.” He smiled. “It's just that, y'know, I modded the game, so like, the story is the same because I didn't change that, but I kinda... fucked it up?” Naruto's eyebrows quirked, his hands now up in the air, trying to explain himself. “I changed some stuff the characters said and their design for... fun purposes? Mh, yeah, that's why I did it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. Maybe he got lost in his explanation.

Hinata giggled behind her hand. “Well, that's amazing. But how did you do it? I mean, getting into the cartridge is a pretty tough process. And I know that you can install mods in emulators, but only on computer, so how exactly... ?”

Her eyes seemed to be so full of stars, sparkling with a new curiosity. In the reflection of the light in her pale pupils, he could witness the scenery of a beautiful lavender sky waiting for his voice to ring. He gulped, then slightly opened his mouth to answer. “Well...” He choose to stare at the game. He couldn't watch her right now, or else he'd blush a lot. He already felt heat on his face. 

“You know, SNES re-pros ? They made cartridges with all of the games hosted on the SNES for the people who wanted to play them without necessarily buying the original stuff. So, um, they planned on doing the same for the N64 but something in the motherboards made it difficult to, uh, port them? Is it the right term?” His eyebrows crooked in uncertainty. Hinata's serious, interested face made him continue. “And, um, y'know, people figured it out some years ago, like quite early and they ported the N64 games in the re-pros. And I thought, hey since they're porting games it would be possible to mod a game on my computer and convert everything to place it in the repro, y'know?”

Hinata nodded, smiling, amused by his cute speech mannerism and hand movements. He was trying to explain himself with his hands. His emotions were transferred to his face with such ease, translating to quirked eyebrows in a fraction of second. She could watch him explain things with such passion for days on, she would never be bored.

“So I uh, kinda tested it. At first I was kinda scared because, I was like, what if I break my re-pro? Because, the whole thing costs like twenty five plus fifty– seventy five dollars! That's something y'know! So, yeah, I was kinda nervous but then it worked and things got out of hands.” He scratched the right side of his face, right under his whiskers. “I'm not the best at 3D modeling so the things that I added look pretty clumsy and weird, but–“ He stopped, pumping his chest, looking proud. “I know for a fact that the character I modeled looked freakin' cool!” He grinned with all of his teeth.

And then Hinata laughed. She did hide behind her right hand, but her laugh did reach his ears and he felt kind of... fuzzy, hearing it.

“What? Why are you laughing?” Did he say something dumb? He couldn't recall.

“Ah, sorry, it's just that you seemed so proud.” She wiped her watery eyes and looked at him. “It's great. You have some knowledge, that's amazing. I learned some stuff.” A smile stretched her lips like they were oil paint being spread on a smooth canvas. Now he was sure he did blush. “But hey, upon starting a new game, I was so surprised by the bright orange outfit and the whiskers.” Her hands flattened on her lap, beginning to pick on the tight jean embracing her full thighs. “It didn't occur to me that it was very you. The whiskers, spiky blond hair and orange really represent you well.” She smiled.

Naruto stayed silent for a moment. That... warmed him. It was full of warmth, her words. It made his insides bloom with pink and lavender flowers and he felt so full.

He cleared his throats and proceeded to wiggle his eyebrows. A now sluggish look lifted the lines of his face. “Well, I see that you know me already quite well, lady.” He brought his face a little bit closer to hers, waiting for her reaction eagerly.

He counted three seconds before she flushed crimson and hid her face behind her two tiny hands.

“Hahaha, sorry, sorry! You just look cute all red like that, haha!” His eyes became crescents as he laughed, putting a hand on his stomach and a finger rubbing the point of his nose.

“M-Making fun of p-people's situation is not great y-you know!” She said with sparkles of frustration in the corner of her voice. Hands hurriedly flattening on the space between them, she tried to emphasize her argument with hand movements, like he had done.

He laughed a bit more at her puffed cheeks and pouty lips before looking at her with a look that begged for answers. “So, tell me, how did you get into gaming? I didn't know that the pretty lady who worked with my dad and occasionally fell in the storage room had a prominent love for wires and dust.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Here is that look again, she thought. He had successfully turned the conversion on her again. She was now the center of topic and she didn't like it.

The orange juice glasses had remained half empty, half full. Cookies still present in the flower-ornamented plate and crumbs lying on top of the coffee table, contrasting with the titan white it wore.

“Well, um...” She backed away a little, surprised by the upturn of the conversation. “I used to play games with my little sister when we had free time and it became my center of interest over the time. I guess? Well, I don't really know how it got so out of hand–“ She pointed shyly to two storage units hidden in the corners of her living room. They were _full_. Clogged, you would say. “– but after moving here on my own, it just exploded” She nervously laughed. Maybe that was embarrassing.

“Oooh...” Naruto's gaze lingered on the double storage units, full of colors and games. She seemed to be one hell of a dedicated collectioner. He grinned. “You live here on your own? No roommates?” One crooked eyebrow, like a tall mountain. Hinata noticed that most of the time it was his left eyebrow that was the most expressive one.

“Yes, I used to have a roommate when I was a first year but then they changed places because they wanted to be closer to their family” She played with her nails as she continued speaking. “I can handle the rent for now as I'm working with Iruka and selling some pieces here and there, but if it starts to get hard I'll look for a potential roommate. Plus we're kind of afar from the center of the city, and I don't mind taking public transports, so that cuts off some extra expenses.” She smiled.

“Mmh... Don't you get lonely on your own?” Naruto didn't like living alone. It was lonely, and cold.

“Ah, yes, sometimes it's kind of too quiet for my taste.” She arranged indigo strands behind her ear. He noticed that she had pierced them, but wasn't wearing any earpieces on. He wondered if her ears turned red when she blushed, too. “But when my friends have free time, they come over and it's nice. I even try to call my little sister and see how she's doing. Well, anything to keep me away from loneliness, really.” She laughed nervously. Drawing circles with her fingers on her thighs, she darted her eyes away from him, on to the space that separated them.

“Well, that's great.” His eyes lingered on her form, air falling still.

She felt her skin burn as his gaze pierced through her with force. Why was he staring at her for so long??? She felt like she was pinned to the couch, unable to move from the weight of his eyes. Could he stop doing that? She felt like she was going to die from burning face right now. The heat was too much to handle. And she couldn't even stare back at him, her shyness taking the controls of her body in an attempt to save her from this confusing situation. Anything, any topic, something to draw his attention away from her!

She suddenly got up from her spot. Walking to the TV, she took the cartridge in between her fingers and pulled it away from the console. She came back up to the blond, handing him the game.

“Here, I'm giving it back to you.”

Naruto stayed still. He blinked. Like, three or four times. Then his lips parted, trying to form out words. And he finally answered, to not leave her standing here for an eternity.

“A-Actually.” He pressed his lips together. Standing up, he got closer to her, and pushed her arms back to her chest. “You can keep it.”

What?

Wasn't it the reason he came here for?

He looked away, scratching his nape, his other hand on his hip. And a blush formed, along with a nervous smile. “Making mods is not fun if you can't enjoy them with others, y'know? Plus, you kinda reeeaally wanted that cartridge, Iruka told me, and taking it back when you just got your hands on it feels like a dick move. I don't know.” He darted his eyes back to her, and grinned. “You could play the game and give me feedback on the cool stuff I added, don't ya think?”

What was this man thinking? Did he want her to die from a heart-attack? Because of his cuteness? Really???

She furiously blushed, her hands and cartridge to her chest.

“B-But– It's your game I can't take it. You probably spent some time modding it–“ She was cut off by a slender, tan finger brought carefully at her mouth.

“Remember? Share the fun” He opened his arms dramatically and painted a relaxed expression on his face.

Hinata furrowed her brows, and was ready to reply back, but he walked straight past her. She watched him, dumbfounded, as he picked up a game from the pile next to the TV. The games she played the most were placed here for her to pick up easily. That way she wouldn't search for them desperately when she felt like playing one of them.

He crouched next the console, grinning. “Mind playing Mario Kart 64 with me? I'll judge your skills in a game against me, The Professional.” He brought a hand to his chest dramatically, puffing it up, staring at her with a gaze full of challenging spirit.

Oh, she was not going to lose.

So they played. Naruto was given another controller, a green one, and was now sitting next to her, cross-legged. She mirrored him, her controller in her hands, ready to race. Upon choosing the characters, they argued on who would play as Yoshi, as he was the fastest player.

“Yoshi is the fastest character out there! And the most balanced! Toad is very fast too but he gets knocked off by anyone, even the wind!” Naruto argued. “Since he's the best, and I'm the most handsome, the outcome of this argument is evident!”

“Wha–“ How was she supposed to argue on that. Indeed, he was handsome, she couldn't deny it. She blushed lightly. “W-Well, you're the guest so I guess it cannot be helped.” Her eyes darted back to the screen.

“Nah, I'm joking, I'll let you take it.” He smiled, and picked another character. Mario would do. Hinata watched him with an incredulous look. But then he grinned. “I'm sure I can beat you fine with any of the characters.” He leaned his body on his left side, getting inside her personal space.

She blushed, knitting her brows together, before furiously pushing the A button. She was definitely not losing. 150cc race, last circuit. This was going to be a heated battle.

So Hinata won, and Naruto ended up second. He was indeed furious – well furious seemed to be too powerful a word to describe his state of emotion, more like frustrated. He blamed it all on the character choice, and how she was advantaged because of Yoshi. Hinata then answered with a gentler, but still challenging voice that he was the one giving her willfully the opportunity to play the character. He was about to reply, but closed his mouth as he was at loss of words. He blushed sightly too, her newly sluggish look surprising him.

“Well, fine! You won, okay. To have a fair game, I suggest that we pick the worst characters!” He pointed the controller to the screen, where the worst three characters were displayed. Wario, Donkey Kong and Bowser. The heaviest and slowest.

Hinata breathed in, gripping her controller tighter. “I'm in.” Nodding, she chose Wario.

“I didn't know you had a think for guys with mustaches.” He grinned, and here were the wiggling eyebrows again.

“That's not–“

“Ahh, unfortunately I don't have a mustache. That means that you don't like me, uh? Do you?” He painted a pained look over his face.

And Hinata blushed a violent shade of red. Just what he planned.

“Hahaha, I'm joking, joking!” He laughed, the pout of her lips to cute to handle. “I'm going to choose DK because he's strong and manly just like me.” 

Hinata gave him a funny look. “Yes, surely.” She giggled.

Upon playing, they laughed, making fun of the characters and their slow, snail like pace. As they were having so much fun, watery eyes and hurting bellies from continuous laughter, they had a terrible game play. They played like six years old children, but it was so much fun.

So much fun.

They felt warmth in their hearts.

Hinata ended up fourth and Naruto just above. He was very proud. Yes, very. A little too much, one would say. But, as she giggled behind her hand, she thought that as long as he was happy it was okay. It wasn't excessive, she even found it cute.

Once finished, the orange juice glasses were empty and the cookies gone.

Eventually Naruto had to go back home.

“Ah shit, it's already three thirty.” He said, glancing at the clock of her living room. Naruto got up from his spot. “I have to go, Iruka will probably come home in not so much time.” He wanted to see if he could pick Iruka up from wherever he actually was, as he had come here with his motorcycle.

“Oh, you're already leaving.” Hinata said. Before she slapped a hand to her mouth, blushing. Did she really say that, just now?

“Ehh, will you miss me?” He laughed, cheeks a light pink.

He helped her clean up the mess they had created. Hinata put away the Nintendo 64, putting it in the drawer under the TV. The controllers suffered the same fate, along the games. She smiled at Naruto's cartridge. She was definitely playing this next. Naruto took care of the plate, bringing it to the kitchen. Once crumbs where nowhere to be found on the carpet, wires out of sight and glasses in the sink, they stood in the entrance, facing each other.

“Um, please c-come back anytime so we can play games together again... If you want of course.” She blushed, clinging to the gray sweater.

“Yeah.” He smiled at her with a new fondness she had never seen show up in the blue of his eyes. But it stayed in here for less than a blink of an eye as it was replaced by excitement. “Please do play the game! I'll look forward to receiving a text from you.” He winked, flustering Hinata even more. “You have my number right ?”

“Y-Yeah.” She nodded, eyes shy.

Naruto took a good look at her again, printing a thousand images of her features in his mind.

“Okay, I'll get going.”

Hinata opened the door for him. He stepped out, waving a hand at her.

Grinning, he said “See ya!”

“Bye bye.” She smiled and waved back.

She watched his silhouette become smaller and smaller before she closed the door.

She took a time to sink in all the information. She blinked, staring at her foot, and then.

He had called her cute back there!

She blushed a violent shade of red. A hand came to her mouth, covering her whining, muffled sound. He was really going to drive her crazy with all of that excessive blushing. She was going to faint one of these days.

Trying to calm her nerves, she got in the kitchen, rolled up her sleeves and began to wash the two glasses.

It was really getting lonely, now that she thought about it.


	3. inspection

Naruto sat on the seat of his motorbike. Squirming a little, he tried to find a comfortable position, his jean clinging to his tights a little bit too tightly. He got his phone out of the inside pocket of his coat and searched for Iruka's number. Once found, he called him.

Classic scenarios would have the person at the end of the line answer in the blink of an eye. But with Iruka, Naruto always had to call him at least twice for him to answer. So he did so, and Iruka finally answered.

' _Yes?_ '

“Hey, how you doin'?” Naruto asked, crossing his arms and leaning on the handlebars.

' _Well, I am doing great. How about you?_ ' Answered back Iruka's gentle voice.

“Am doin' pretty well. Just got out of Hinata's apartment.” Naruto glanced up at the window of her kitchen. It could be seen from outside.

' _I see. Did you get your game back?_ '

Naruto blinked. Ah yes, the game. Well, he was very passionate about getting it back at first, but long indigo hair, pretty pale eyes and pink round cheeks changed his mind. He believed that the orange juice and macadamia cookies got into his way of thinking as well.

“Well... I uh, I let Hinata keep it.”

' _Eh? Really? But you seemed to really want it back._ ' Iruka's voice sounded confused.

“Yeah, but, like, she seemed to really want to play it? I didn't wanna end her excitement abruptly, y'know.”

' _But the game is modded you said?_ ' Yeah clear confusion.

“Ah, yes? But she seemed very curious about what I added in?” Naruto's eyebrows curved outwards, facing the sky. “And she showed interest when I was talking about mods and stuff so, yeah. I felt like letting her keep it was the best thing to do.”

' _Well, if you say so._ ' Naruto took a couple of breaths before Iruka spoke up again. ' _Is there any reason why you called me?_ '

“Yeah. Wanted to know if you want me to pick you up? I'm on my motorbike.”

' _No, I already got back home. There wasn't much people and I was freezing out in the chilling weather. So I got home early._ ' Naruto readjusted himself on his motorbike, back straighter. ' _And I'm not willing to hop on a motorcycle without a helmet. I'm sure you don't have one to offer under your sleeve._ ' Iruka said, sighting a little.

Naruto rolled his eyes, smiling. “Yeah, yeah.” He didn't have a helmet either. “'kay then, I'm comin'. See ya.”

' _Ride safe._ ' Answered Iruka, more gently.

And the call ended.

Naruto looked over his shoulder. The window of Hinata's kitchen was slightly opened. He could see flower patterned curtains through the glass. Seemed to be very Hinata-like, he thought. Smiling lightly, he turned around.

He firmly gripped the hand grip, feeling the texture of his leather gloves on his palms. Yes, he had bought leather gloves for the sole purpose of looking cool while on his motorbike. Of course you had to buy accredited helmet and gloves to be able to ride a motorbike lawfully. But he had chosen those special ones that sparked a fire in his blue eyes. Those who would complete his cool look. He had to complete the look. He had to.

He couldn't get on top of the engine with gray sport pants, a simple tee and sneakers. He had to look edgy. The best kind of edgy. So when he knew that he was going to heat up the engine, it was with a leather jacket, dark, shiny boots at his feet and ripped jeans. Of course, it wasn't very recommended to ride a bike in jeans, especially ripped jeans. But did he care ? Not a lot. Not enough. 

And certainly not at the moment.

When he was seventeen, he got his ears pierced after having this obsession with earrings and jewelry. His fixation on silver chains and rings too did get out of hands. Because he didn't create only one hole through both of his earlobes, no. That was too little for his thirst to be completed. So he got seven holes. Three on each of his ears, lining next to the dangling earlobe, and one at the top of his right ear, parting the cartilage.

Of course, he bought a shit ton of pendants and ornaments. Black, gold, silver, pink and red, some with spikes and chains connecting the rings. He even got a pair of neon, fluorescent earrings. Sometimes he did combinations of colors. Like primary colors. Red, blue, yellow. Yeah. And for Valentine's day it was red pink and white. He really didn't give a damn about Valentine's day. It was just funny to match everything with anything.

He really did become some kind of collectioner, buying excessive amounts of earrings and acting all extra about them. When he received money from the little jobs he had, it was all dedicated to earrings and hand jewelry. He remember keeping that one notebook with websites and brands names to order from. It began in small stores in shopping malls and then it was all about big brands and online ordering for special pieces. The last one he got was an armour gunmetal ring from Vivienne Westwood.

At that time, he was fully living with Iruka, as he was still underage and a junior in high school. So, of course, upon discovering where all of his savings and hard work went, Iruka had scolded him. 'You don't need all of that stuff' and 'It's completely useless' but also 'What's gotten into you' and other irritating stuff that Naruto couldn't stomach at the time.

He did not understand.

Iruka did not understand.

These ear pieces and hand jewelry were like air for him.

In the eyes of the blond, it was a simple hobby, a passion one would say, but it was really important. Of utmost importance. He thought that he could make a living off earrings when older, setting up his own shop or something along those lines. It was a full project. He did not like being made fun of because of his interests. It was very serious. Very serious.

It got very, very intense. Although he didn't realize it was that bad.

But it lasted one month and a half. Maybe two, he couldn't recall exactly. His memory was fuzzy when it came to remembering stuff like that.

Then the euphoria got swallowed by the Sea, along with the obsession. And it's then that he realized that he didn't need to own so much jewelry.

Still, he kept them.

Because things are important. You can't throw belongings away that easily, right ?

Maybe one day he'd need them.

Yeah.

He knew that these obsessions always occurred when the Sun burned in his mind. Earrings, fixations on timing things, religious beliefs. It was different every time.

When the euphoria settled in.

It was kind of exhausting.

He made the engine roar with the swift movement of his hand, and in the blink of an eye, he was sent off far in the distance.

It always felt amazing watching the scenery blur into an incomprehensible pattern of chopped up colors. And the sound of the earsplitting motors around him, the clamorous horde of confused bodies lining up in the street, the chant of their voices – all, all of them reduced to ashes by the boisterous wind framing his face. He felt so great. So nice.

He didn't have any helmet on. When getting out of the apartment, he forgot it. He was too excited to get his game back, so he just opened the door and left. But it was also because Hinata lived fifteen minutes or so away from Iruka's apartment. He wasn't going to put on his helmet for a fifteen minute ride. Most of the time he didn't even put on his helmet. It was not necessary.

It wasn't that dangerous.

And no cop would see his fluorescent-like hair.

He was sure of it.

So he rode home without any worries clinging his chest. Free in the wind, he felt like flying was a possibility. After some while, he decreased the speed, slowing down, catching sight of the flower shop. He really wanted to continue riding, go far in the distance, disappear in the horizon and come back at the ungodly hours. 

But he didn't.

He searched for a place to pull over and, when that was done, he started walking towards the shop. The apartment was accessible only through the shop so he got out his keys, opened the door and closed it behind him once inside. Passing the pots, flowers and overall green decor, he found his way through the stairs and, once at the top of them, gripped the doorknob. Extending his arm then, he exposed the entry way.

“I'm ho~me.” The door made a click sound behind him as he pushed it with his back, leaning on it.

“Welcome home.” Iruka answered back in the kitchen at his right. Pink apron on, hands in the sink. “You know, you could've at least washed your bowl and spoon before heading out.” Naruto took off his boots and placed them in the shoe cabinet.

“Ah, sorry sorry. I completely forgot.” Naruto got closer to his godfather, leaning an arm on the dark kitchen worktop. “Got anything I can help you with?” He watched his tanned hands rinse the white bowl and place it on the counter next to him. He made a humming sound that resembled a negation, so Naruto took it for a no. But he still stood there, behind his back, watching his movements absentmindedly.

Of course Iruka felt his gaze, so he turned around, a hand on his hip. “What is it?” He asked, gentle. Not annoyed.

“Nothing.” He shrugged, crossing his arms.

Iruka dried his hands before walking to the living room, the couch seeming to be calling his name. Naruto followed behind.

Maybe that he should've stayed with Hinata a bit more. Playing games with her was relaxing. It made the time pass easily, happily.

He didn't like boredom. It made him think, and sometimes even think too much.

It made his mind too present.

Hands in his pockets, he watched Iruka settle comfortably on his brown couch, taking the remote control to open the television. Okay, first, he could get off these slightly tight jeans. They weren't the most comfortable. He had brought two pairs with him for his short stay at Iruka's apartment. The blue ones he was wearing at the moment, ripped, tight around the inside of his thighs, near the crotch. And black ones, more comfortable, not ripped, but most importantly, currently in the washing machine. 

He didn't plan on staying much with Iruka this time. He had some projects coming up, stuff to be done and work to... work on. But he still didn't want to be in an environment of stress for too long either, so a break near his godfather was great. Of course he still went to university and stress factors were still picking at his skin and nerves, but the smiling face of his godfather calmed him down a little bit. It was easier to relax here rather than at his apartment. His roommate was also a student – although very lazy – so this state of constant work made him want to throw up. Plus, Iruka wasn't that far from the university, it wasn't bad to come see your family once in a while right ? Family. Maybe that family seemed like a big word. But Iruka was family.

He was.

He'd always be.

He should've always been from the beginning.

His apartment wasn't the most spacious. It got too tiny sometimes, when he spent days on and on in it, not leaving. The walls did trap him. It was like the air stored in the rooms was stern, completely still, and if he exhaled only once, it would be too much and he would suffocate. This feeling ripped his chest on rare occasions. Skin crawling. When it did, he did a quick way out of the door.

He stayed outside for hours. Walking in the streets under the yellow, mellow lights. Or sitting on the dirty floor, beer in hand. He got home around three or four in the morning.

Other than that, it wasn't too bad. You'd be surprised to hear that his actual roommate is Shikamaru, his childhood friend. They're going to the same university, but different majors, different orientations and goals in life.

Shikamaru was specializing in law. There indeed seemed to be lots of reading involved and some thinking too. Naruto didn't have the sharp mind of Shikamaru, and certainly not his logical sense of things. That guy just seemed to be able to think straight in whatever situation and find the most plausible conclusion in each cases.

But Naruto also knew that sometimes that lazy aspect he had got heavier, his sleep more considerable and the cigarette's smoke more dense.

Shikamaru wasn't immune to his own Sea, and the scum that it caused gathered at his feet like heavy ankle chains.

Nonetheless, it was fun to share his apartment with a childhood friend.

Naruto got into his room, closed the door behind him and walked to the wardrobe next to him. He opened it, picked generic gray sweatpants and a blue tank top out of it before putting them on. Jeans thrown on the floor and long sleeved shirt on his bed, he crouched, and searched for a new pair of socks in his drawer. He eyed the black computer on top of the desk located beside his bed.

Maybe that he could continue to mess up his emulator, and add in some mods. And when Hinata would hand him the re-pro back, he would port these mods into the cartridge, and play it with her.

There was definitely going to be a second time, right?

He was sure of it.

Once fully dressed in comfortable clothes, used ones folded in his backpack, he headed to the living room, seeking Iruka. He didn't put his clothes in the washing machine because he was getting home tomorrow, and he didn't think that his jeans would become completely dry in one night. No jeans in the dryer friends, or else surprises will come your way. Plus, it's not like they became dirty. No worries.

“Hey,” Naruto said, sitting next to his godfather. Iruka glanced up at him, eyes previously focused on a book. It seemed that he got bored of the stuff on the TV. “I'm going back to my apartment tomorrow.”

“Already?” Iruka crooked his eyebrows, setting the book on his lap. “When did you come again? Thursday?”

“Yeah, Thursday.” He crossed his left leg, tucking it under his right thigh. The most comfortable position ever.

“Aah, time flies by so fast.” He sighed quietly. “Are you setting off in the morning?” Naruto shrugged. Didn't really know at which time precisely he would go back, just knew it was tomorrow. “Kakashi is coming tomorrow at one or so, so maybe stay until then so you can see him.”

Naruto smirked, crooking his eyebrows. “Well, I wouldn't want to bother you two.” He laughed as Iruka eyes him suspiciously. “Plus, you know him, he's probably going to come later that agreed on.” He shrugged, directing his eyes to the TV. A cooking show.

Iruka sighed, picking his book up again. “You're right.”

Leaning his elbow of the soft armrest, he said. “I think I'll stay until lunch.”

“You sure you don't want to stay a bit more?” He pursed his lips.

Naruto laughed lightly, teeth showing. “Who wouldn't want to stay with his family a bit more?” He looked straight into his godfather's eyes, smiling. Iruka smiled back. “Nah, it's just that, project's be comin' up and I feel like am more concentrated at the apartment with Shikamaru.” He scratched his cheek, pensive. Ah. “It's not like you distract me in a bad way or anythin' ! It ain't it!” He waved his hands up in the air rapidly, accentuating his claims. “It's just that, y'know, the environment and all plays kind of a role, so yeah.” He slouched a little, eyes at the corner of the room, back curved inwards.

Iruka seemed silent for a moment, watching him. And then he smiled.

“Well, you aren't a burden at all, so if you want to come, do so. I'd be pleased to see you more often.”

Naruto smiled. 

This truly felt like home. No doubt. 

Naruto got off his spot, approached Iruka and crouched next to him, trying to read what was in his hands.

“So, um... You know I love you and all, and that I wouldn't want to disturb you in your reading session thingy, but...” Iruka looked at him next to his right shoulder. “What do we got on the fire for this buddy?” He pointed to his belly.

Iruka passed a hand over his face, sighting. “I guess I ain't havin' a son in this house but a whole digestive system on legs.”

Naruto laughed freely.

Yeah. This was warm. Welcoming.

🎭

Hinata laid on her bed, belly surrounded by the soft blanket on her mattress. She was staring at her phone, a smile full of different mixed emotions on her face. It had been now a few hours since Naruto left, and she was still full of candyfloss. Her interiors seemed to transform into sugarcoated marshmallow and her cheeks into strawberries.

On the screen of her phone was displayed Naruto's phone number. She was having the dilemma of her life, trying to find a great surname for the blond. She didn't want to write a simple 'Naruto', because it felt too dull, and she experienced too much things at once to not put emojis. Her friends had hearts and flowers and even honey and food next to their name, so why not Naruto too ? But since she was kind of crushing on him, it felt weird to put hearts...

Hinata sighed.

“Am I really having a dilemma on something stupid like this ?...” She whispered to herself, sliding her finger from right to left on her screen to view more emojis.

She pressed her thumb on the orange heart. It proceeded to show up next to his name. This one will do. Yes it was a heart, but it didn't seem as personal as a pink or red one. Color codes are important. She was an illustrator after all, and even working at a flower shop. Hues and color theory were crucial.

“Why am I even bothered by this...” She hid her blushing face in her pillow, exhaling.

What was she doing ? She was acting like a middle school girl writing a love letter. This feeling flowing in the depths of her body was eating her whole away, imitating the hunger of an ogre. It was indeed making her do stupid things, but she wasn't going to deny the warm heat igniting within her flesh.

She relaxed for a certain proportion of time like this, belly swallowed by her blanket, before her phone rang. 'Oh no, not a call again...' She whined in the cotton of her pillow before glancing up. It was Sai.

“Sai ?... Ah, the art project!” She jumped up, sliding her finger on the flat surface.

“Hello?” She arranged a hair strand behind her ear.

' _Hello Hinata._ ' Answered back the calm voice of her friend. She could practically hear his smile through the speaker.

“How are you doing? It has been a long time since we had a class together.” She asked, fingers drawing patterns on her thighs. Sai and Hinata shared painting classes every Monday and Wednesday. It was now the first day of the weekend, so the beginning of the week started to fade away in their memories.

' _I am feeling great._ ' She knew that he tilted his head to the side saying that, lifting the corner of his lips. ' _How about you?_ '

“I am great, thank you.” She smiled. “So, um, about the art project?” She straightened her back, leaning it on the wall behind her.

' _Yes. I called you so we could discuss about it. I'm sorry, it's kind of late._ ' He apologized.

“No it's fine, don't worry.” It was indeed starting to get a bit late. The honey rays behind her curtains had slowly been swallowed by the darkness of the night. She would say it was around nine or ten. “Do you want to discuss the basics at a coffee shop or a library? Or maybe one of us could go to the other's house and directly work on the piece?” She drew lazy patterns on her pink blanket, before grabbing a stuffed animal and hugging it with her left forearm.

' _I'm fine with whatever, so choose the most comfortable one for you._ '

“Ah, well, I'm the most comfortable at my house, so...” She giggled lightly. “You already know my address right?”

' _Yes. Last time's painting session with you was very relaxing._ '

She beamed, pleased to know that. “Well, the same goes for me.”

Hinata and Sai sometimes met up at parks, coffee shops or each other's places to draw, paint and listen to soft music. It was these kind of moments that made Hinata's heart relax in the depths of her chest, allowing her to breathe more easily. She would always be grateful to Sai for just being here and doing art related stuff with her. When she had a brush coated with thick paint between her fingers, she just felt relieved. She was off the weight of reality, ready to fly and be devoured by her colorful canvas. Yes, beside gaming in warm blankets and soft socks, painting with Sai was the most relaxing activity she practiced.

“So, when will you come?”

' _Next Wednesday? We both finish our classes at two. I'll bring my belongings and an easel._ ' She heard shuffling around and a door opening at the other end.

“Don't bother, I already have a tinier one that can be used on top of a plane surface.” She readjusted herself on her bed, opting for a more comfortable position.

' _It's fine, I'll come in my car so I'll be able to carry everything._ '

“Oh, okay.” It's right, he had his car. “So, um, I'd say Wednesday at three?” She waited for his approval and nodded. “Okay then, I'll be waiting for you. See you Monday?”

' _Yes. Have a good night, Hinata._ '

She giggled, envisioning his smile. “Have a good night, too.”

And the call was put to and end.

She waited here, lips closed, phone in between both hands. She chewed lightly at her bottom lip, thoughtful.

It was getting really lonely all of a sudden.

She brought her hands to rub her arms lightly, reassuringly. She had to find something to do for tomorrow, as doing nothing was simply not considerable. She didn't want to slip in the covers of her memories, as they made her limbs numb and eyes red. It was not... comfortable, such sting.

Brushing her teeth. She could brush her teeth, to do something.

She got up from her spot, put on her slippers and walked lazily to her bathroom. She approached the sink, picked her toothbrush and coated it with the thick texture of the toothpaste. She wet the top of it before stuffing it in her mouth. She began brushing her teeth silently.

After rinsing her mouth and cleaning her toothbrush, she took a step backward.

Here, in front of her eyes, was her reflection. Big on the enormous, border-less mirror.

It seemed like her mirrored appearance was calling for her, swallowing the entirety of the wall. Gigantic next to her petite figure, colossal. She couldn't turn around and simply ignore it, as it was like a black stain on a white, pure cloth. A crow enclosed by fair storks.

So she payed attention.

She took a good look at herself. Turned around. To the other side. Pulling her shirt up, just under the crest of her breasts, she inspected the lines her belly drew on the aluminum surface. Here, disappearing in the folds of her pajama bottom, was a curve Hinata wanted to flatten.

She sucked in her belly, putting to a halt her breathing. 'Maybe more like this...' She twisted her body, changing angles, trying to make it look more... pleasing, to her eyes. To her expectations. Or what was supposed to be her expectations. What was supposed to be hers.

She put her hands up in the air, tucking them behind her head, letting her breasts come up, hidden behind the comfortable texture of her tee. This combination of exposed assets and strained skin. This special position, described as the recognition of sensuality, of desire. She turned around, again. Her hands came back to her hips. Taking a good look at herself, she bit her lip. 'Are they falling? They don't look great...'

She didn't know how much time she spent watching and inspecting her figure, exposing it to her scrutiny. Her imposing perusal didn't seem that intense to her.

Just a little check up.

Before exiting the bathroom, before closing the door and leaving the mirror, she looked at herself from afar. Her hair was now halfway down her back. Under the indigo curtain, was her posterior. Full, plump buttocks. She turned slightly around. Was it too big, or too small? Maybe that it, too, was falling. Like everything.

She sighed, closing the door.

Just a little check up.

It's not bad.

It would not hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aha? yes? sjjdsk here is the third chapter. a little bit shorter, but for right purposes. i introduced more depth, some highlights on their line of thoughts. what kind of suspicions do you have? we're getting into the more serious stuff as the chapters pile up but aghhh i feel like the transition between the fluff and this is brutal!! anyway! hope you enjoyed, and i'm off to write the fourth chapter.


	4. colors

When Hinata woke up the following day, she remembered that she had to work at the flower shop that Sunday. 

Like, today, right now.

So it was in a hurry that she got out of bed, running hurriedly – not quite literally, but a little bit – to the bathroom. 

But then she realized she had to go to the toilet first, so she did that. 

Then she cleaned herself, and got out of the bathroom.

It was only when she began pushing her legs in her mom jeans that she realized she did not know which time it was.

So she grabbed her phone, slowing down a bit, and sighed under her breath when she saw the numbers on the screen. It was only nine in the morning. She had to be there at eleven and a half, no need to rush. She spent an average of thirty minutes in public transports and walked for some more, but the time spent on her feet was like dust at the floor. It was that little and insignificant.

Now more aware of her surroundings and place in the time, she got to the kitchen, looking for something to fill her empty stomach. She didn't like eating too much in the morning, it made her nauseous, even more so when she had to take public transports. Especially buses. They were the worst. Her enemies. If she spent more than half an hour in a bus, it was a straight way to vomit world. She had to take two buses to arrive at Iruka's shop, but at least she got to take a break in between and breathe an excessive amount of fresh air. About ten minutes in each of them was acceptable. Most of the ride was spent listening to music or watching lunch packing videos on her phone, so the constant shaking and sharp turns was bearable.

She picked a banana from the bowl at the corner of the counter in which she kept her fruits. Peeling it off and stuffing a little amount in her mouth, she searched for a thermos flask and put some water on the fire to heat it up. Might as well make some tea to drink it on the go.

Spreading the closet doors wide, she picked up a glass container filled with tea bags of different flavors, opened it up and drowned her hand in the heap of herbs. Her fingers swallowed in the sea of white and grayish green, she picked a random tea bag out of the container and read the inscription at the end of the string attached to it. Red fruits. This was going to smell amazing once sank in the hot water.

Hinata always brought lunch with her. Even at university. She just felt like making her own food gave some kind of reward to her ego. It rewarded her for being able to wake up sooner and make her own things and eat it proudly. Whenever she opened the box in which she stuffed vegetables and meat and eggs and stuff, it was like a lullaby in her head. I made this, she told herself. I had enough mental and physical strength to do this, and I'm proud of it.

It made her productive enough for the rest of the day.

Of course there were some days when she didn't have too much time, woke up late, had no mental energy or no motivation whatsoever. She bought pizza, greasy food, stuffed sandwiches and ate everything with friends when it happened. Mouth full of these ingredients, of oil and sugar, she felt horribly glutted, throat stuffed with food. It was at these moments that she hated her lack of control.

It was at these moments that she felt incredibly guilty.

And it made her want to puke it all away.

Her psychotherapist always told her that keeping a regular routine through the day and a consistent sleep pattern was the key for a stable mental state. So she nodded, promised herself to at least try. And so she did.

Even if it took a really long time to put into practice, simple tasks like washing the dishes, brushing her teeth, taking a shower – all of these things helped. As the days and months passed, she added easy things to do through the day to her routine. Sketching a little bit, packing her lunch, talking to someone through texts or face to face, doing a bit of exercising.

Yes, all of these habits brought her strained limbs together, and not keeping that said routine would tangle the strings keeping her safe.

For today's lunch, it was omelet with crab sticks, the remains of yesterday's salad and some rice with seeds. She was going to be full once finished with her meal, but at least it would bring breakfast and dinner together, so she wouldn't eat much tonight.

She still had a bit of a problem managing three meals a day, but she was definitely getting it more and more. Water too. Yes. Water too.

Everything seemed to be doing great these days. She got the routine done from a to z without too much disturbance, spent time relaxing a bit, and even got to spend some great amount of time with Naruto.

Speaking of Naruto, she still had to venture more in the expanse of his mod. But that would be for later, as work was calling for her.

Sometimes she felt like something was not going right when everything was going right. It might sound weird, might seem incomprehensible. But the numbness once constantly present now missing, tearing off with care and self acceptance – it was like she missed it. Like feeling happy wasn't okay.

Like it wasn't what she deserved.

She completely forgot that she was supposed to work today as her weekends are mostly free of any duties. Unless she asks for supplementary hours, which is rarely the case. Iruka had asked her if she could take a hold of the flower shop for the rest of the day. He would be here for the major part of the morning but she would have to carry on and close the shop. She thought about it for a little bit, before concluding that it wouldn't do her any bad. She didn't have anything to do, and she hated laying lazily on top of her bed.

It made the brain work too hard. It made memories come back.

But with Naruto and his cartridge and his eyes and hair and cute smile and expressive eyebrows – she ended up forgetting. Well not for so long, as she was now up and ready to face the outside world.

Usually, Sunday's were filled with Kiba's loud laughing and Akamaru's barking. She enjoyed spending time with him as he was very easy going. Even thought her personality seemed to be on the polar opposite of his, through time and patience, they learned to balance each other. Kiba was sometimes a little bit off track, making rude jokes and fooling around a bit much, and Hinata was a little bit too thin skinned and sensitive. They learned their flaws and chose to be careful before entering certain subjects. 

And of course the flow of time matured them both – Kiba mostly.

They would meet up at the dog park, maybe grab a drink on the way there, ruffle Akamaru's hair and talk about random things. Week stuff, work ahead and funny stories. Kiba would most likely lead the conversation, rambling and rambling, and Hinata would listen quietly, sipping on whatever drink she bought. It was okay, because she didn't feel pressured to talk. She knew that she could just stay beside him and watch dogs run and jump. She was that relaxed around him. It had taken some time to adjust and understand his out-going nature, but once firmly settled, their relationship only bloomed.

Other than these days, she didn't meet up with Kiba that much. He was working full time and only got so little time for himself and his hobbies. He had an electric guitar, but wasn't able to play it much now since he was busy. She kind of missed it. When they were still in high school, he would play silently next to her, cords ringing and fingers running. It varied from the soft sounds of Sakura's ukulele and Hanabi's piano. And when she was angry, the harshness of it would mingle with her raged feelings and somehow, it would calm the horrible mess in her head.

When he was focused on his guitar, Kiba didn't talk much. Furrowed brows, bangs falling on his eyes and lips forming a slight pout. She liked watching him when he was serious and calm. It was a different Kiba from the one she loved seeing laughing and joking, but she still liked that part of him. It brought a smile to her face.

So yeah, Sundays at dog parks were great.

She put the used cooked utensils in the sink, the food and drink in her bag and headed to the entryway. She would probably wash them once home.

Ah no. Not probably. She will.

Indeed.

Fixing her hair in front of a mirror in the entrance, she proceeded to sit on the crimson armchair just next to her. Grabbing her shoes, she pushed her feet into the right pair and did the same for the other one. She grasped her keys, pushed her bag to her shoulder, opened the door. And just like that she was out.

Waiting in the cold, under the roof of the bus station, she listened to some music, earbuds clinging to her ears. She would go for Eddy Kim's songs this morning. Calm, relaxing. Korean artists had some fine works hidden in the abyss of their genres. She enjoyed digging into the diverse library that Korean music was, trying to find that one pearl which would seduce her with soft melodies and slow rhythms. She just found that there was something serene about these tracks.

Few minutes passed. The air was cold and it threatened her on top of her thick layers. October was already chilling and the sun disappeared gradually as nights augmented in numbers. But her brown turtle neck and beige sweater would never let her down.

She hopped in the bus when he presented itself to her, greeted the bus conductor with a polite 'Hello' before taking a seat. When she had the opportunity, she always took the seat right behind the conductor, to the left. She could watch the scenery from the window more easily this way.

And she wouldn't think about the eyes of the other passengers on her.

This way, all alone, with no one in front or next to her, she could relax for a moment.

The ride went well. Hinata's buses both arrived on time, and the thirty minutes passed quite fast with the soft guitar cords echoing in her earbuds.

Upon entering the shop, the light sound of a bell rang. Iruka at the counter looked her way, smiled and greeted her.

“Hello Hinata, I was waiting for you.” 

“Hello Mister Umino.” She beamed back at him, closing the door behind her. “Am I late perhaps?” Eyelids batting, she arranged a hair strand behind her ear.

“Absolutely not. I think that you're even a bit early.” He laughed. “You're so cautious, I'm sure you'd get out fifteen minute before your regular time just to not be late.” He added, amusement leaking from his voice, lips slightly up in the corners.

Hinata giggled nervously, hands gripping the hem of her sweater. “Ah no, I just had time ahead of myself so I thought that I could maybe get out earlier... It's not too bad.”

“You're right.” He sighed. “Naruto's laziness might have washed off on me.” He chuckled lightly.

The mention of his name tickled her ears.

She got into the storage room, grabbed her apron and tied a tight knot behind her back. Dark brown now surrounding the front part of her body, she joined Iruka at the counter.

“I'm ready.” Hinata secured her hair lowly at the back of her head. Not too tight, not too loose. Just enough for it to be firmly clasped but also let her neck move freely.

“So, I leave this to you then. I know you'll do a great job, like always.” He took his own apron off, the cloth falling from his shoulders to land in his hands. “If you need anything, I'm just up. Don't hesitate and knock on the door.”

Hinata nodded, lips pursed. She licked working at the flower shop because the people at the door wouldn't pile up, and busy days were not only very rare, but also not as busy as you'd think. Most of the time, the clients were cute women searching for that one set of plants that would make their apartment liven up. It was also elders looking for flowers to take care of, the voice of their own children now lost in the world of adulthood. Sometimes people in couple would search for that specific bouquet that would bring sparkles in the eyes of their lover. And in worst case scenario it was flowers for the dead. Hinata didn't like making bouquets for these kind of occasions. It made flowers dull and sad.

She didn't like farewells.

Other than that, working at the flower shop was a relief to the soul. Getting to learn about color coding related to flowers, which one represent what, which one is suited for what. It's just extra knowledge and extra peace for the heart. The interior of the shop is just filled with green and white and red with sparks of yellow and orange, and all of these different colors making Hinata's eyes gleam with love. The kind of love that grows with experience and time.

Iruka gave her little instructions, one what he had left to do and what he did actually do. Combinations to arrange, designs to rethink of, all in one sketchbook on top of the wood counter. She nodded, licking her lips, and watched his silhouette disappear in the stairs.

So time passed. Some clients came in, looked at the flowers and plants. Some bought, some got out without saying much beside a greeting and a 'goodbye'. Some asked for advice, and Hinata answered back, putting her knowledge to practice. With time and perseverance, her stuttering and fear of the unknowns washed off. She spoke with more confidence in herself and her abilities. It took time, but now she felt comfortable.

She was now sitting on the tall stool behind the counter. Legs dangling and mechanical pencil in hand, she was sketching on the yellowy paper of the sketchbook. Trying to get a certain combination of flowers work out. Sparks of bouquet ideas in her mind.

“Hinata?”

Hinata looked up from her unfinished sketch, someone calling her name. One pretty voice calling her name.

“Naruto.” She stood up. Why did she stand up? She just felt like standing up. “Hello.” She felt like she was short on air.

“Hehe, hi.” He approached her, gap nearly closing. He leaned on the counter, crossed arms near her. Did he want to make her faint? With that smirk of his. “I didn't think that I'd see ya there. But it's kinda logic since you're the only one who works with ma dad so, yeah. I don't know why that didn't click first.” He licked his lips, looking at her. 

Was he a demon ? Yes, he was testing her. She was going to hell soon. Tongues were out of league.

“Y-Yes. I-I um, I'm replacing Iruka for the rest of the day.” Her hands got lost in the hem of her apron, tangling and untangling hurriedly. Ah, now she was all flustered. She couldn't even hold his stare.

Naruto tilted his head slightly to the side, trying to grasp her pale eyes. She was avoiding his gaze, he didn't like that. He looked down at the counter. In front of her was a sketchbook filled with scribbles and pretty sketches of flowers. He picked it up, inspecting it.

Hinata looked back at him and blushed upon seeing what he was doing. Her sketches were messy, him seeing them was embarrassing.

“Ah, these are just sketches, they're very messy” Her eyebrows went up slightly, lightly worried. “Um, please don't mind them too much.” She inspected the expression on his face. Very serious. His eyes were focused on the gray strokes, varying from very curved to very harsh and straight. Scribbles next to the sketches indicated the name of the flowers, which colors constituted the bouquet and other information he did not particularly pay attention to.

She looked at the ear pieces at his ear lobes. Only the left ones as his right profile was hidden from her sight. All silvery, one with a black cross dangling from it, and another covered with spikes. Just on top of them were strands of spiky blond hair, striking, facing different directions each, doing their own thing on top of his head. She wondered if they were soft to the touch, if her hand would drown in the cloud of the sun. She blushed at the thought.

Next to the silver earrings were three lines surrounding two thirds of his cheek, a little transparency making them mingle with the melanin of his skin. Was the skin smooth there? Or did the thin lines create bumps or even creases? Were they scars from a past event in his life or was he born that way? Would she ever find out? That was the right question to ask.

At the bottom center of his face was a pair of pink crescents. Lips full, quite wide, not very plump, but asking for touch. Asking for attention, it seems. Seeking closeness, like magnets.

On top of them, a very straight nose. Curved at the end, shining lightly. His chin, not too prominent, round around the edges, was covered with fair strands of blond. Slight, moderate in amount, not very discernible but pleasing to the eyes once found. It was a contrast to the very brown shade of his smooth skin. Like honey glazed on a soft doughnut, his skin reflected the sunlight coming from the window display. The short hairs at his chin in the sunshine now seemed to be shining slightly. Fairer, whiter.

In him was kept a kind of prettiness, a kind of handsomeness so harsh she could feel her skin burning from the simple sight of his.

Of his whole. In it was hidden a gem.

She wanted to find it on her own.

Naturally, Naruto felt her gaze. Her eyes were burning with a white fire he could feel from his spot, so of course his skin was burning. He was just kind of amused. He really wanted to stare back at her, but he knew she was going to look away and blush in somewhat varying shades of pink and red. Not that that kind of sight was not pleasant, but he wanted her to check him out just a little bit more.

Just a little bit more.

A tad bit.

His eyes involuntarily stared back, digging into the lavender of her orbs. 

And the air was still for a moment.

And their breaths fell still for a moment.

Naruto opened his mouth slightly, trying to figure something out. “Your sketches are cute.” Yeah, he said that her sketches were cute, not amazing, because he mixed up okay? He thought she was cute, but then his lines got crossed, and yeah.

She seemed surprised for a moment. For like, four seconds, before she blushed and looked away. “Aha, n-not really, I mean they're kind of very messy, but um, thanks I guess?” She looked back at him, eyes unsure.

He smiled back at her. Fondly. “Sure.”

And then they just stood here, eyes in eyes, blue melting in white and lavender. It felt great.

Suddenly the door opened and a customer got in. That startled them out of their reverie, and Hinata muttered a slight “I'll be back” to him before approaching the woman that just blew their intimacy bubble. If Naruto could growl, he'd have. This atmosphere was too beautiful to be lost by the sole presence of a random individual.

He leaned back on the counter, elbows on the flat wooden structure, and watched silently Hinata's figure. She was smiling shyly, giving advice to the woman on which bouquet would be better for her, which combination of color, of flowers. If all roses were better or different set of different types. All that stuff that Naruto didn't care about, but thought was pretty cool to know about. Hinata sure as hell had that kind of artistic ability he didn't have.

What he produced was either too dull or too messy. Not okay for the outside world. Better to stay in the depths of his imagination.

But she, she was made of something. Something very special, a sequence of pastel colors that brought warm to his heart. He didn't know her. No. He didn't know much about her. But from what he knew, this person was a source of comfort, a source of... happiness, perhaps.

He wondered if he was too much in it. Maybe he was too much in it. Too early, maybe.

But it wasn't unpleasant, so it wouldn't hurt.

It wouldn't hurt right?

Hinata came back once the woman had left with her bouquet in hand. She was surprised to have his full attention on her, stare so hard and intense, she just stood there, breath halting. Such perusal dedicated to her sole existence... She wondered what was so interesting about her, attracting such attention from him.

Ahh, she was sure that she was blushing right now. His gaze was just too much to handle.

Fingers fidgeting in front of her chest, she approached him slowly. She had to find something to say. But as she looked up at him, her breath fell short. Deep blue swallowing her whole, she wondered when she was going to faint.

“You look great with your hair like that.”

And Hinata died just here.

Of course Naruto smirked proudly when he saw her face go crimson again. This was just too nice. Teeth showing, he waited for her to answer back, wanting to hear her flustered voice. Damn, he was enjoying himself too much here.

“A-Ah, r-really? I thought that my cheeks were, um, too round and puffy so yeah, I, never figured it would look good.” Her eyes looked at everywhere but him, and her fingers were trying to find something to grab onto. Cloth, hair strands anything. “This, um, hairstyle is only for work I guess.” She giggled nervously.

Naruto crooked his eyebrows. “Eh? But you have a pretty face. You shouldn't always hide it. Even thought you look great already with your hair freed, when your cheeks are showing like that it's cute.” He watched her face travel from horror to shock to utter embarrassment before laughing out loud, hand on his belly. She was way too cute. “What? It's true thought!” Laughing again, he couldn't control himself.

Hinata hid her face behind her hands. What to do... “Naruto, I should thank you but, you s-sound like you're making fun of me...” Her face was indeed burning. You could probably cook an egg on it. That was how hot she was at the moment.

“A-Ah? Really? I-I didn't mean that! I was just complimenting you!” Naruto now seemed worried. She lowered her hands, looking at him through her bangs.

“No, it's okay. You're kind, thank you. I just felt, embarrassed, from that sudden attention.”

Now it was Naruto's turn to turn pink, not as much as her, but hey, still. She was cute, he had to blush at such pretty sight. Was this a ping pong game somehow? Blushing repeatedly for no particular reason?

“A-Anyway! Are you g-going somewhere, somehow?...” Hinata asked, leaning slightly on the counter next to him.

“Ah, yeah. I'm going back to my apartment.” Naruto said it so casually, it was like he didn't mind much. Hinata's mouth formed a slight 'oh' and her eyes became somewhat bigger from surprise. That meant that she wouldn't see him much around then.

When Naruto was staying at Iruka's apartment, she happened to meet him at different places. Call it fate, or pure hazardous instances, only the heavens above knew. But when he was back at his own place, she never saw that special shade of blond anywhere in town.

Somehow she found herself searching for him in those moments.

“But you know,” He got closer to her. “Now that you have my number, you won't miss me too much.” He winked before laughing out loud. Okay okay, he was messing around too much. “Hehe, sorry sorry.” Hinata was pouting slightly, eyebrows furrowed, but less red. She was beginning to get used to his teasing.

“W-Well, I will indeed text you once I start playing the game you modded.” She bit her lip, eyes hesitant.

“Great.” He stood here for a moment, eyeing her, not leaving her face and petite figure. He didn't really notice, but now that they were close, gap very restrained, he realized that she was very tiny next to him. Why was everything about her so cute ? This was very bad. Very bad. For the heart mainly.

“Hey.” It brought her attention back at him. “You're working 'til the end of the afternoon, right?” She nodded, agreeing. He continued. “Then, did you eat? I mean, lunch. Would be a bummer if you worked on an empty stomach.” He shifted his center of gravity, hips now higher to the left. He crossed his arms, and that made him a little bit more imposing. Perhaps he did not realize it, but from Hinata's perspective, it was very obvious.

“I brought something with me, to eat if I feel hungry, don't worry.” She smiled lightly. That was cute. Was he worried about her state? She wondered. That would be... great. To know that he cared. “Plus I don't feel hunger that much, so I guess it's okay.”

“Mmh, great then.”

And the air fell still.

There wasn't much to say, but so much to discover. So much to find about each other, so much to experience and share. But they just felt speechless here, embraced in an unknown atmosphere with no possible adjective linked to it. It felt special, just standing here, close, distance very insignificant. Somehow, even thought they only got to find out about one another not so long ago, their newborn connection felt special.

They both thought that they didn't want to lose that special connection.

“I better get going.” He said, scratching the back of his head, giggling lightly. He wasn't particularly late, and he wouldn't be as he didn't even say to Shikamaru that he'd come back today. But traffic was kind of a pain in the ass and as the hours passed, it only got worse.

“Oh, um, yes. Please drive safely, and I um, will text you hopefully?” She followed him to the door at the entryway.

“Yeah! I look forward to it.” He grinned, and opened the door. “Okay, see ya then!”

“Bye.” 

She waved back at his disappearing silhouette.

And just like that he was gone again. Unable to reach, far in the horizon, melting in the setting and somehow never coming back. It seemed that the sole presence of his being had the ability to fill the shop with vibrant colors. Colors that were invisible to the eyes but so clear to the heart. The kind that make flowers grow in your veins and fill your belly with silly butterflies. It felt really weird. It was like warm water was being poured into her, and it felt really great.

It felt so great.

But for a moment, Hinata wondered if this way okay.

This sudden attachment to a pair of eyes and sunny smile.

She wondered if it was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand, here is the fourth chapter. took a little bit more time than usual sorry sorry. got some busy weeks. if you enjoyed it, please do leave kudos or a comment, it would really help my motivation~~ fifth chapter is being written at the moment~~


	5. repetition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so so so so sorry for the delayed update. really. i did not expect the writing process to take so long. i must admit i delayed it many times. i have no excuses really beside the fact that i wanted to take time for myself, summer break starting. That said personal time was followed by a mixed episode and i couldn't focus on writing that much. i am very sorry!! there might be a few mistakes, i'll probably fix them in the following hours. i hope that you'll still enjoy this chapter!

The thing about Mondays was that no matter how many times you faced them, they were always hard to go over.

Once you spent a weekend in your comfy bed, getting out of it so suddenly – and so early – was a literal pain in the ass. Leaving that sweet cocoon of yours for a day full of work and serious stuff was not the best thing in the world, indeed.

Today's morning went alright. A little bit rough on the edges, but alright. Hinata simply brushed her hair, got a skirt and a sweater on, wrapped her scarf around her neck and got out. She got her lunch and tea with her again. Just regular stuff. A regular morning. Her routine.

The classes she had for the continuation of the day were sculpture, architecture and painting.

Sculpture class went alright. Even though getting a three dimensional figure of the flat image you had in your head was pretty difficult, Hinata still enjoyed spending time playing with the smooth clay. Molding it with her thin fingers, some would find shelter beneath her nails, and it would certainly be a pain to dig the orange hued substance out of them. She did make progress from the first time she was introduced to it, so her sculptures didn't look too silly anymore. 

It was fun, learning about new stuff. Even thought she was more the illustration type of artist, trying out techniques and materials she hadn't ought to master in the past years was refreshing. It gave her a feeling of renewal. A freshness one would discover upon finding out about a brand-new way of handling the usual.

Architecture, however, was a nasty piece of work. A botheration. Yes.

Drawing tall buildings with squares for windows was all fun until you had to add perspective and details to it.

Three point perspective Hinata, three point perspective... She continues telling herself, on and on. Trying to get it right, but failing because that's just how perspective is. A literal pain in the ass. It made you sweat from anxiety, it created a frown with a supplement of a crease right in between your dripping brows and it tensed your shoulders.

You had to Get. It. Right.

Architecture was all about technical stuff and she had never been too fond of technical stuff.

They still had to get the basics in though. Had to learn about every technique, see if any of them could trigger a hidden interest for them or not. Because, who knows, maybe you really are fond of clay sculptures but you just don't know it ? Or maybe you like hurting yourself with freaking architecture and its damned perspective.

Maybe Hinata was just a little bit salty because she couldn't get it right.

She slapped her hands on her cheeks. “Come on Hinata, you can do it. You just need a little bit of practice...” You have to stop being so harsh on yourself, she thought. She really had to work on the perfectionism here. Her pieces weren't too bad, she just wanted it too look exactly how it should be. Not a centimeter off. But maybe that was too much to ask.

She was doing a great job. Yes. She was going to believe it.

So she kept practicing, surrounded by artists striving for improvement just like she was. Seated on the grass, under the leaves casting a thick shade over the top of their head, they were making their mechanical pencil run on the fresh paper. Some were still working on construction lines, other filled in with some details. Some erased the blur they had accidentally created with the back of their hands, some were crying inside because the result looked nothing like the reference. But hey, it's okay, everyone has their own difficulties, and everyone learns at their own pace. There was no need to be hard on themselves, they were trying to improve themselves after all.

Because, deep down, in the end, we're all flawed somewhere, and what makes us great, is the ability and desire to become better regardless of these flaws. We're all striving to become better persons.

But then what is a better person.

Lunch went all great. For today, it was simple onigiris filled with mayo and tuna. Three of them. Tea was simple mint. She felt like adding a little bit of freshness to it all. 

Hinata was also trying to give up coffee, or at least avoid it as much as possible. Whenever she drank it, it seemed impossible to get off that special flavor. Like an addiction, really. It might keep you up through the day, but she had the nasty habit of taking a sip of it in nighttime. So it would keep her up until dawn, would keep her thoughts going and she did not like it. She might have more time to finish projects, finish abandoned drawings and drafts, but the results were always messy. And she didn't want to remember the mornings following these restless nights, as she would just be very grumpy and tired.

Remember kids, a healthy, maintained sleep schedule is the key to recovery. To any recovery. To a stable mental health.

Her therapist was right, in the end. She really should've listened sooner. She should've listened sooner.

She agreed on having lunch with Sai as they were having their regular painting class together right after eating. So, you know, why not spend time discussing random stuff and enjoying the last rays of sunshine before the heavy coat of winter comes and fades them away.

Sai was a kind individual. He might seem off and awkward to others, but Hinata thought that he had just the right amount of cringe, if that made sense. It was kind of funny, honestly, seeing him borrow books from the library, analyzing human relationships in all its depths, trying to find the key to their intimacy. She wanted to know if these books were helpful at all, so when Sai had them in hands, she didn't mind picking them and reading a few lines. It was pretty interesting, but too forced and stereotypical. Were those the right words to describe them ? Probably. Maybe.

So along with a few laughs and embarrassing situations, she tried to explain to him that human relationships weren't just based on lines inside books but real life actions and emotions. You might try to be the perfect image of said perfect friend defined by those quirky authors, the only way to get in touch with others and their feelings was to connect with them on a spiritual level. In short, just be honest and present in the time being for them.

Still, he had noted everything she had said to him and was trying to put her words into practice, but she guessed he made a lot of progress. She laughed lightly on her own. He was truly something.

Sai felt comforting because she didn't have to put up a certain image in order to please him. She just felt like she could be herself, he wouldn't mind. Plus, they could just be drawing buddies and spend time painting landscapes together while listening to indie music. Just that, just this combination of relaxing things, it was enough. It was enough to cool down the stress of daily life and school projects.

They decided that meeting at the park outside the art school was a great decision. The one with the benches and tables of wood. Tall trees are surrounding the entirety of the area and it felt refreshing somehow. A cold breeze traces the curves of her body and threatens to violate the fibers of her thick clothing. So she grabs her arms, holds herself hard and hope for some kind of warmth to come and embrace her from within. Soon, soon enough the cold would replace the once shining sun and everything will turn dull. The clothes of the people in the street will turn darker and their face features will overlap, closing more and more, light disappearing. And the nights will get longer and the sorrows will appear to hold more weight within them. It will sure be the best time to stay home and do everything but nothing.

Everything but nothing.

She sat on the bench, black boots ruffling the somehow damp grass and jean skirt drawing folds on the textured fabric. She licks her lips. They already turned into a sharp, cracked, chapped mess. Surely her body was the most responsive to the change in the air and fluctuating humidity.

She gets out her lunch box and thermostat bottle and waits for Sai. He'd surely come in no time. She texts him, asking him if everything was going alright and if he will indeed come. Hinata received an answer as she was sketching the scenery in front of her eyes. Might as well practice as she had free time.

Nothing to be alerted of, he was just running a bit late. He had stayed a little after class to talk to the teacher. Ask for advice it seems, as he told her. 

She heard footsteps behind her, and right after, they were followed by a gentle voice.

“Hi Hinata.”

She turned around, smiling. “Hello Sai.”

He sat in front of her, immediately taking his lunch out of his bag. Pasta. Heated Pasta. He probably heated it in the cafeteria of the art school.

“Pasta?” Sai looked up from his meal, eyeing her. “You heated it not so long ago?”

“Yes, in the cafeteria. It is great that they allow us to do such thing.” He got a fork out of his bag and opened the transparent box in which he stored his pasta. It was the ones that looked like butterflies. Hinata liked to call them this way. Hanabi would say that they resembled bow ties more, and so she would disagree with her sister's view. Hinata just shrugged. She thought butterflies were better than simple bow ties, but hey. Everyone had their own interpretation. 

She just felt like hers was better this time.

Hinata pursed her lips. “Then, why didn't we eat at the cafeteria? it would've been easier for you.”

“Oh, I am completely fine with this. I don't like the cafeteria as most of the time there's too much people and noise.” Sai was right. She didn't like the cafeteria that much. Confined into four walls, people would walk in, stuffing the room more and more as the minutes piled up. No matter how big the room was, it always filled up between twelve and two. She had felt like the bodies surrounding her were closing on hers and it would make her feel extremely anxious and off. Everyone ate with a partner, while she felt secure in her comfy bubble. Earbuds and personal sketchbook, she felt happy alone. Add a crowd and it was like she was naked, completely lost in a mob watching her every movement. So yeah, staying away from the cafeteria wasn't that bad.

“Plus, the scenery here is very enjoyable. I thought that I could sketch something alongside you once finished with our meals.” He smiled, and Hinata could only beam back at him. Yes, he was right, this was much better. On top of that, being in open spaces felt incredibly nice. The quiet wind ruffling their straight hair in simultaneous motions, caressing their porcelain skin, it brought a sense of life Hinata couldn't really explain. She just felt more alive surrounded by nature. 

They ate, for the most part silently, sometimes dropping random facts from their last classes. Then it was art time, so both of them got their supplies out, and started working on each of their pieces. Each one had earbuds on, listening to different musics as the pencils worked on the granulated paper. It was completely okay. Completely okay. They didn't feel pressured to talk, didn't feel pressured to interact with each other. The sole presence of their respective bodies and spirits relaxed their minds. It was nice, sketching, coloring so peacefully next to someone. Not having to constantly run their tongues.

It was very nice.

And it went on like that for the rest of the day.

Painting class was filled with the teacher's instructions and time restraints. They used mainly acrylic for this session, and as it was one of her favorite medium, she had a great time. Sai was seated beside her, so that was a plus. 

Painting was fun. Frustrating, but fun. 

Paintings always look awkward at the beginning. Shaky strokes, overall weird shapes and no shading. She had trouble starting line less as she was used to have the support of her line art on top of the coloring. Of course you always had some kind of construction lines to help you through the process, but it wasn't the same thing as line art. Because there isn't layers here, it isn't digital art. Once you paint over it, no Ctrl + Z will save you.

There was this complexity to human skin that made the coloring process very exhausting. It wasn't just red and orange tones. It was blue and green thrown here and there. Sometimes purple or even yellow would appear in the corners, out of nowhere, waiting for their opportunity to shine. 

She was hooked to digital art and the simplicity of it (even thought it wasn't that simple in the end), so having to transition to traditional painting was kind of rough. But it was okay, because she got it right in the end. And she had started to really like it. The feel of the brush on the canvas covered in gesso, the sense of grandiosity one would acquire once done. All of that leads her to the perfect artistic orgasm. No joke. 

Then the teacher's voice resonated in the four walls they were surrounded by. And just like that, class was over.

“This was nice.” Hinata said, sighing lowly. She looked at the canvas in front of her, covered in acrylic. Construction lines were covered by thick layers of barn red, space blue and touches of sepia yellow. The beginning of a silhouette could be discerned in the center of all these shapes. Parts of the surface was still glossy though, the acrylic didn't dry completely. But she knew that it would in not so much, acrylic drying pretty quickly compared to oil.

“I felt the same way.” Sai flashed her a smile, shoving his supplies and cleaned brushes in his bag. It was a burgundy shoulder strap. It looked pretty neat, pretty simple. Convenient. Not too flashy, could mingle in the sea of the world, quiet. Just like Sai.

Getting her own bag behind her back, straps hugging her shoulders, she followed him to the the door leading to the school corridors.

“Are you done for today?” Questioning him with raised eyebrows, she was walking next to him, boots making sharp sounds on the floor.

“Unfortunately no. I still have a couple of classes. What about you?”

“Classes are done, but I still have to work.” Today it was the coffee shop. Mondays and Wednesdays evenings were filled with coffee scents, macchiatos and whipped cream. Sometimes chocolate cookies and cakes coated with caster sugar would find themselves in the hands of gourmands. She really hadn't realized it, but lots of people – mostly students – came to study and discuss about ongoing projects. Once you were seated at a table, coffee in hand, computer or sheets of paper in front of you, you couldn't just stay here doing nothing, scrolling through your Instagram feed. Because you were at the damn coffee shop for a reason : to study. Getting work done at home might be somewhat difficult because of a certain procrastination thingy going on, but when out, at a place that wasn't yours, you had to get it done. She didn't really know how to explain it, but it was just like that.

Of course some people came just to get a quick drink before disappearing in the streets alone or with a group of friends, but they were not the majority.

“You're living on your own, so why don't you receive a grant?” Sai seemed confused. He had told her once that he didn't have any relative to hold on onto so he had received a grant. Money would find its way into his bank account every month to help him through life, and even throughout summer break. July and August. With no parents nor sibling it was pretty understandable. She had asked him how he had managed to get away with all the materials art school required to get every year, and all the other expanses he had to make because of, you know, daily life. He had just chuckled lightly, saying that he lived a simple, minimal life.

Of course, he worked too, just not as much as she did, since he had a scholarship to support him a little. 

“Well...” She smiled a little, eyes looking far in the distance. “Let's just say that my family is kind of wealthy, so I am not allowed to receive a grant.”

“Mmh, I see...” He seemed thoughtful for a second.

They walked until they found the stairs, and it was there that they parted ways. Hinata had to go south and Sai north.

“Then, I'll see you tomorrow. Same class, same room.” Sai smiled.

She mirrored his expression. “See you tomorrow.” Waving her hand, he did the same and departed, walking up the stairs.

And she was left to her own again.

Once out of the imposing building, she followed the gray paths of the street, looking for the streetcar line. The streetcar arrived after a short amount of wait. Hopping in, the door closed behind the frail frame of hers, different bodies of different shapes, covered in different clothing and different skin types following her.

The stations follow each other in that one special pattern that only that one special streetcar beholds. It follows an imaginary track behind the uncountable vehicles upfront. And it leaves a gray, sometimes even black trail behind. It colors the urban life with dull, sad hues. It drops your head low, chin facing the floor, bass lowered to silence and happy songs condemned to death. If only we could look up, stare at the vast sea of hope we have above our heads constantly, watching over us.

Hinata believed that maybe, maybe if we all didn't take for granted the little things in life, then maybe we would be happier.

Didn't matter if it was only the blue of the sky, the smell of rain and the feel of it on your skin, the ruffling of the leaves in the reassuring wind, the proud that fills you upon gazing at a meal you spent so much time on, the smooth fabric of that sweatshirt you recently bought – anything and everything, really.

They really, really mean a lot.

Baby steps. Baby steps to recovery and happiness.

And before she knew it she was in the coffee shop. 

Cap and black apron on, hair tied at the back of her head, she's the one who takes the orders. It's the regulars, the names who come up most of the time. Brown and Black get mixed together, and sometimes ice cubes fall into beverages. Unknown faces would request for them to make those drinks which were brought up every blue moon, but a few blinks were enough to send the workers back into consciousness.

It isn't quiet. There's the noises from the customers, the machines, the squeak of their shoes on the floor. There's the noises from the cars coming from outside the coffee shop and the closing sound of the door. There's the revolting resonance of the voices of the workers, orders being shouted over the loud cacophony of... of everything. 

And it hurts her ears and hurts something. Something she doesn't really know the identity of. But all she knows, is that she wants to go home. Because her head is pulsating and her shoulders can't seem to relax, attached to her ear lobes.

Time runs, and she leaves, her duty completed. 

Just had to do that every week until she found a stable job.

The way home went well. Her buses were on time – roughly – and it seemed that the onigiris she ate for lunch had dissolved well into her digestive system. So no vomiting incidents here. It was probably around six and a half when she got out of the coffee shop. The sun was getting tired far off in the distance. It threatened to disappear in the following hour, minutes perhaps. The orange would fade into that dark blue, itself followed by a deep black. Maybe she'd be able to see stars in the sky tonight. Maybe.

She spent the entirety of her ride forehead sticking to the window, earbuds on. She didn't mind the shaking, for once. She was too immersed into the music.

When she closed the door behind her, she immediately ran to her crimson armchair, plopping into it like a magnet in a pot full of slime. God, did she love that armchair. She did fight with her paycheck to get it, but it was all worth it in the end. Even though it was vintage, already used, the fabric was still smooth and remained unstained. It didn't look freshly new, nor did it look completely ruined by the flow of time. Exactly what she wanted.

Today, she wore black boots that hugged her feet until the very beginning of her ankle. They had those chunky, not too high but still consequent heels that looked gorgeous but could harm you if wore for too long. She loved them, they looked really cute, paired with doted socks or any socks in general. But sometimes she regretted putting them on as her little toe would always cry out in pain.

That's why when Hinata gets the boots off her pulsating feet, relief fills her whole. Now, that was more comfortable.

She washes her hands, gets into her pajamas and jumps on top of her couch.

It was the perfect time to get her hands on Naruto's cartridge.

She wouldn't spend too much time playing it. She still had some things to work on, to improve.

But playing a little wouldn't hurt.

So she gets the hardware out of the drawer located under her TV, plugs in the wires, inserts the cartridge into the slot. The usual.

And then she pushes the power switch forward. The little red light at the front of the N64 is the signal that everything is running.

She's cross-legged on her couch, controller in hand and smile stretching her lips. She just felt happy. Because she was playing a game, and it felt brand new, like a discovery. Because she loved retro gaming. Because she loved the N64 the most, a certain nostalgia clinging to it like roots to the floor. Because the day went well. Because she had a great time with Sai. Because she felt proud of herself for being organized. Because she had been sociable and did not freak out for no reason, did not jump at random sharp sounds. Because everything was going well. Finally.

One might say that sparks of a special kind of joy coming from something more specific emerged from within her heart. Maybe because of the fact that a certain someone had made those changes in the game with his own to hands. Maybe because blond locks and whiskers had stayed behind a screen, working on those mods for hours, and she was the very first one to put into practice that said work. Wonder who that person may be.

But hey, Hinata would just ignore that fact for the moment. She'd ignore anything that could trigger blushes and embarrassment.

So the intro starts, and she skips it. Because, you know, she already knows it by heart. She creates a new file, going for the generic Link. 

But then she remembers. Upon playing with it for the first time, the main character had traded his straight hair and green hat for blonde curls and that one flashing orange jumper. Blurry, pixelated whiskers had been added to the texture of the skin, and brown boots had been traded with blue sandals.

Hinata's finger stay still on the controller. What if... What if she named her file Naruto?

Eh.

Ehhhh.

Hinata smiles awkwardly and hides her face behind the gray controller.

Was she really serious?? Was she really going to do such an embarrassing thing?

First she had a dilemma on emojis and hearts, and now file names from games?? Was she just not over the awkward teenage phase?

Well, she was only twenty, and she technically still didn't see herself as an adult, because, you know, it's too early, and an adult has responsibilities. And most adults are not nice, and they're kind of scary and stern and they do not really care about what children think. It's like they don't want to have anything to do with it, you know, fun is over, gotta work and be serious and...

That was not the point at all! 

She shouldn't loose track of her thoughts. Okay. Really, file names didn't matter. She could name the file Naruto, and so what. She's twenty, she doesn't care.

She presses the A button and loads the file.

It's okay. If someone questions it, then she'd just say that it someone else's. If Naruto mentions it, then she'd say that it's because it's his cartridge. Yes, she'd say that. That seemed legit.

And why was she making up excuses again.

Link – or Naruto, whatever you want – is on the back of his horse, Epona. Engulfed in the shadows of the trees, deep into the lost woods, their pace is slow. Blue hues accompanied with thick mist cover the screen, and a song plays lowly in the background. Very quiet, very calm.

He searches for a friend, looks for their bygone light that used to lift him up in time of despair.

Suddenly, two fairies bump the horse. Immediately, Epona jumps, weight on her back legs, and in a blink of an eye, the boy is on the ground, unconscious.

The famous, mischievous and creepy theme of Majora gets close and closer. And far, far, the fog disappears slowly, revealing a silhouette. Crooked arms and legs and... spiky hair?

Hinata's brows knit. Skull Kid isn't supposed to have spiky hair, but a straw hat...

The mask that this silhouette wore was of striking orange spiral. And in the right center, a black hole melts into a striking red. Crimson seems to evade the face piece from the once dark circle, and all Hinata can do is stare.

She still didn't know what was happening, but Naruto's mods looked like they were going to make her night.

🎭

He wasn't thrilled by the idea of coming back home. Well, home to his own apartment. He was just fine with his father, enjoying his company and his light scolding. He had even met one pretty individual and had fun playing games full of nostalgia.

He didn't like the smell of cigarettes in the apartment.

So when he came back yesterday's night, it was with a scrunched nose and crooked eyebrows. His “I'm back” had started with a quite cheerful voice before it toned down and laid flat in the entrance's air. He had taken his shoes off along with his coat, coming in.

And here was Shikamaru, stretched out on the black sofa of the lounge. Cigarette in hand.

Opening half of his eyes, this slight motion of his body accounted Naruto for his arrival. He stood here for a moment, waiting for something to come off Shikamaru's mouth. And he spoke. “Didn't expect you to come back so early.” Crushing the cigarette in the ashtray next to him, he shifted on the not so soft material, now pressing on to his right side, face engulfed in the back pillows.

Naruto barely rolled his eyes, a little smile hanging on the corner of his lips. Yeah, Shikamaru would never change. “Didn't wanna leave ya here on your own.” He heard a little 'Hmpf' coming from the front of the furniture. An affirmation. Or was it something else?

It was true though. As much as he liked spending time with his father, helping him around with the chores and stuff from the flower shop, he always felt guilt tinging at his chest. He didn't like to leave Shikamaru all alone in the apartment. He didn't like leaving anyone anywhere alone. Because he knew what it felt like. The sudden loneliness. Being left alone.

One might say that he took everything too deeply. Maybe. But still. It was not cool. Not nice. Plus, last time he went off to Iruka's for a while, his return was not very pleasing. Let's say that Shikamaru is very lazy, and if something is not in the 'necessary to do' field, then you best believe he wasn't doing it. Not lifting one single finger.

Although he was the one managing the paper things and all for the apartment. So he did make up for it somehow.

Naruto didn't like all that stuff. It was hella boring, hella confusing and fucking upsetting. He always felt very irritated filling up sheets of he-didn't-know-what and making hundreds of photocopies. Recto and verso both. Wasting his money. Because yes, they couldn't afford a copy machine and all the ink that came with it. Plus, once the photocopies stacked on top of each other, numbers increasing with the passing time, the ransom also got bigger. Because a few pennies didn't seem too bad when it was one or two sheets, but once you gotta remake your whole passport, it was one hell of another story. He tell you.

On top of that, the guy who made photocopies at the corner of the street was super annoying. Guys half drunk on beers always stagnated in front of the store, and every time he saw them laughing and talking loudly, he was close to picking up a fight. Because they were irritating. Their behavior was irritating. And it made his blood boil.

Gotta write in black on the paper because blue isn't considered okay somehow, too. Like, why ? In the end, when they would end up making copies, the ink would come out as black, so tell him, why bother ?

He knew that if he could calm down in any way, settle down and think straight for thirty minutes without disturbance he could do these things. But, did he actually give that much fucks? Not at all. Plus, Shikamaru could do them fine on his own, easy peasy. And quickly too.

He didn't even know if he could sit down calmly for thirty minutes.

Two possible scenarios : get so much into stuff that you start to overthink and somehow end up being depressed for what seemed like no reason at all. Or, you could get distracted by that one leaf in the tree, flowing in the wind, or the taping of the pen on the white paper. Anything, really. 

Seemed like he got from Five Years Old Child On Salvia to Teenager Whose Mother Died Last Monday. Count the Cock Blocked, Frustrated Twenty Five Years Old in the bundle too. It was the perfect mix of the two ends of the spectrum, you had to take it into account.

He blinked.

Right, the window.

Naruto made his way to the couch were Shikamaru was technically, supposedly taking a nap. Right in front of it was the TV, big flat ol' screen like usual, and behind it, a window. Slightly opened, the air from the outside world made collision with the confined one of their place. It was like he could see their difference in color. Clear, dark blue with sparks of yellow and violet from the foreign, along with mild brown, rose gold-ish, cream-like from inside. Don't ask him, he just felt like it. He just felt like that was it. That's what it looked like.

“I told ya I don't like the smell of cigarette. Open the freaking window completely, it ain't gonna go away if you ain't doin' it correctly.” He snaps the glass figures wide open, the two of them, and lets the night wind hit his face. Fuck, that felt great.

He looked at the feet of the couch which maintained it still and secure. Right there, on the floor next to Shikamaru's head, was the ashtray. Full of cigarettes butts, still smoking, still fuming with weird blends of quieted emotions put to silence. Just one hand. You just needed one hand, to quiet the emotions, to lit that cigarette.

Believe it. One hand is sufficient. For anything.

For breaking. Or for loving.

He stands here for a few seconds, hands in pockets, eyes lost in the gray ashes. “You've been smokin' a lot lately.” He pauses, inspects Shikamaru's silhouette for a moment. “Cut it out.” He walks past him, and gets to the kitchen. He was getting kinda bored. When he's bored, he thinks of food most of the time. Like, I don't have anything to do, so might as well eat.

One might think that he was speaking to himself, the body once in front of him sound asleep. But Naruto knew better. He knew Shikamaru wasn't off in the void. His mind was working. However, he didn't need his constant nagging. He was fine thinking on his own, but still knowing that Naruto was around. 

At least, that's how Naruto perceived it. 

Maybe that wasn't like that at all. Maybe he was indeed sleeping. He didn't know. Sometimes he doubted.

He wanted to believe he knew his friend enough though.

And that's about how the night went. Naruto watching random speedrun explanation videos of Super Mario 64 on his computer and Shikamaru, sleeping, he guessed. That was probably it. Then exhaustion invaded his organism, and that's how he joined his friend in unconsciousness.

Now it was Cursed Monday and although the day was put to an end by the ringing bell of the university, he felt as tired as one could be. He didn't do much, really, but he got up fairly early and he didn't enjoy that very much. He was the kind of person to get up when it was nearly too late to get up. Like, if he woke at seven fifty for example, then he was damn late. Seven thirty was considered okay, because he had some little extra time. So, according to his very complicated calculations, seven forty was the best one since it was in between It Is Completely Okay and It is Completely Disastrous.

But even though he did sleep, he darted off at like, one in the morning or so, and had to wake up at seven forty. That was roughly six hours of void. Big annoyance energy. It was flowing out of him like bad smell. Yeah, great comparison here.

So when he got back home, it was plan TFB. Toilet Food Bed. The day and classes long, time slow, his limbs asked for rest. It was around six or seven in the afternoon now – could it still be called afternoon ? Maybe more like the evening...

What was the difference between afternoon and evening anyway? Where were the limits? What were they ?

Anyway. It was late enough to crash into the couch full force, at least.

White socks making their way to the kitchen. Stopping in front of the fridge. He extends his hand, opens the thick white door.

Yeah, not much to be excited about.

Two thirds of the fridge were occupied by fucking yogurts. Who eats yogurts anyway? Shikamaru only buys that shit because it's easy to eat. You don't even need to put it on top of the fire, nor do you need a plate. And there's not need to munch it, you can just gulp it down. You just need a little spoon and the guts to eat something so... plain. Strawberry flavored, mango flavored, that one with the weird rice thing going on, even pistachios for god's sake. In the end, they all taste the same. To him at least.

Naruto could eat fruits. Yes. He could eat an orange, an apple or a pear. But every one of those had to be ripped off their skin, because he didn't like the thick cover hugging them. Not like you could eat an orange with its skin huh. The only fruit that was not a pain in the ass to consume was banana. And flat peaches. Because the regular ones make his hands sticky and he's obligated to wash them after. He doesn't have that much will to do such thing.

But yeah, guess what. Nor bananas nor flat peaches are around. He was just there, with his yogurt buddies.

Under the literal stacks of yogurts was the infamous shady part. He didn't really ought to adventure himself here. Even the light that the fridge produced seemed to dim under there. He could distinguish silhouettes of various sketchy vegetables, plastic bags with whatever inside and containers. You best believe he wasn't touching those.

He closes the fridge door.

Guess what's coming up next.

Instant ramen.

It wasn't his first choice, because he had decided that he'd eat something different for once. Something that wasn't random cereals that were on the sale part of the store.

So he gets the thingy that warms up water and puts it on top of the fire.

Gets ready to eat.

Fills the bowl with the hot water.

Then eats.

Was this really the sole reason of his life. Constantly eating ramen.

Don't get him wrong. Ramen's great. Ramen's fucking great when you don't have anything else to eat. But when you think about it, instant ramen every four days outta seven sounds depressing. The other three days were pasta or mashed potatoes. It wasn't really mashed potatoes thought. It was powder that you throw in milk for ten minutes before turning into a thick, yellowy substance. It wasn't bad, it just had little to no taste.

Man, his life was boring as hell.

He really, really missed the sparks.

Anything but the monotone boredom.

Anything.

Naruto unlocks his phone, planning to watch a video on YouTube to pass the time. While he eats that same ramen he'd had for several consecutive years. Yeah.

But his eyes catch something.

A text message.

From Hinata.

Wait wait wait. He did not expect that. At all. Like, so soon? Like, it's not that bad. But it sure as hell surprised him.

He can't help the little smile forming on his face. It's like it's tangling him. He really can't help it.

And the smile only gets bigger when he unveils the whole text. Teeth are showing, lips stretched wide, eyes slight crescents.

She had sent the text a few seconds ago. This certainly wasn't a coincidence.

This wasn't a coincidence.

Right.

He was sure of it.

**Hinataaaa**  
_Hello Naruto. I have just started playing the Majora's Mask cartridge that you modded. You did an amazing job. I still can't believe that you made it. It's like, really good. I don't know what to say. I'm typing this out but I'm still playing. I just started out a few moments before. I'm sure there's much more hidden in the continuation of the story. I'd like to have an explanation of everything you've changed/added. I want to know every detail, if it doesn't bother you._

Naruto's beam may have been brighter than the sun. Her text message seemed too put together to have been typed out in a few seconds. Or was it? Maybe she was just one of those people that texted like they were Maupassant or some other fancy french writer, coming straight from the 19th century. She seemed to be the kind of person to send one full message to transfer their thoughts into words. 

He wasn't like that. 

Broken sentences and lone expressions, his text messages would never surpass three lines. It was always divided into multiple texts, sent one right after the other, halting for not even a few seconds.

When he was at the top of his ego, it was lengthy, incomprehensible, overly enthusiastic texts. Many comas, many question marks, many exclamation marks. Many confusing things smashed together. Sentences that made no sense. Typed out furiously, too fast.

Maybe he was looking into it too much.

A bubble with three bold points pops up. Waving.

Eh. She wanted to add something.

_If you're not so busy we could meet up, so we'd be able to discuss the game?_

Naruto's smirk grows wider. He's ready to type out his answer, but another text interrupts him.

_I mean only if you'd like! I wouldn't want to disturb you or anything really_

He nearly laughed out loud. That was so her. But without the blush. And the stutter. And the side glances. And lip bites. And indigo hair.

Yeah he was definitely coming back to her house.

ASAP.

The door makes a clack sound and Shikamaru's spiky high ponytail shows up.

“Yo.”

Naruto barely looks up, typing out his answer. Smirking, really, really wide. “Hey.”

The kitchen was connected to the entrance, so Shikamaru directly spotted him when walking in. (It wasn't big enough to be called an entrance but whatever) 

The brunette goes to the sink, washing his hands. “What's got you smiling so wide? Kinda creepy, even coming from you.” He walks to the fridge, grabbing a random yogurt.

“Nothing really.” Naruto throws the ramen box in the trash, walking out. “Just a bunch of memes on Twitter.”

He hears Shikamaru humming, form of an answer.

Nothing really.

Nothing much.


	6. halt in the pattern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone wishes for roller coasters and fireworks, Hinata dreams of calm seas and soft blankets.
> 
> But you don't always get what you wish for in life.
> 
> You never do actually.

We often find boredom in safety and recurrency. Human beings always seem to be searching for that little spark in their lives. The one that would make everything more exciting. Because the unpredictable fills your veins with adrenaline. It makes your heart pump faster. It puts you in the lookout.

The same routine day in day out is boring. It's no fun.

But Hinata loved that routine.

The repeating pattern of days and weeks following each other smoothly was very appealing to her. In her comfy bubble, she felt safe. Like nothing would ever touch her anymore. It was like a reminder. You're okay now. You fought for this,. You paved your path here with courage and hard work. No need to go back to the past now. No need to fight and endure anymore. Safe in her world and soft blankets, she could now breathe easily. It was her win.

So of course when she woke up later that day, she felt great. Tuesday. The day would go on just like it was supposed to go about. She would prepare her lunch, pack everything, put on her shoes and go out. Take her buses, attend her classes. And the painting class with Sai too. And upon returning home, maybe that she would even take Naruto's cartridge and play with it again.

Just like yesterday. It would be great.

Hinata and Naruto had agreed on meeting this weekend. Sunday. Saturday he was working all day. Couldn't see each other that day. She had noted that in the back of her mind for future meetings. She'd felt a warm fuzzy feeling inside her lower belly at the thought. The conversation between the two had gone well. They'd talked a whole bunch, three quarters of the night filled with shy texts and laughing emojis. You'd easily find which one belonged to whom.

Everything was going right.

So right.

When she unlocked her phone in the bus, she noticed two missed calls by Hanabi. And also one message she had left her not so long ago.

_Call me back when you're available!!_

Hinata put on her earbuds, putting some music on. She would call her sister once home, no need to rush. She didn't like to talk in public transports. She always felt like everyone was annoyed by her voice, or one individual in particular was listening to the entirety of her conversation to see if she would say something embarrassing.

Scrutinizing every move of hers. Judging every facet of hers.

So she got home. She took her coat off along with the scarf and shoes. Walking to the bathroom, she hopped in the shower. First, she had to clean herself. She felt like dirt was clinging to her like a three years old baby seeking attention from his mother. A little wash up wouldn't hurt.

Then she brushed her hair. Dried it. Put on her pajama. Ate something – because eating is important. You shouldn't ever miss a meal. Water is important too.

She practically forgot to call Hanabi. It was only when she grabbed her phone from the bottom of her bag to spend some time on social media that she remembered. Her mouth forming a slight circle, ' _oh_ ' escaping from her lips, she looked at the time. Eight forty three. It wasn't too late to call her.

Bringing the phone to her ear, she waited patiently. Hanabi was always on her phone, she would answer in no time.

“ _Hinata! What took you so much time?I was waiting for your call!_ ”

“Hello Hanabi.” Hinata smiled slightly, the sound of her sister's voice pleasing to the ear. Although it hurt a little bit, the voice coming out of the speaker a tad too loud. The youngest one was still full of energy, as she could tell.

“ _For real, what took you so long?_ ” She sounded a little bit annoyed, but not angry. She had indeed been waiting for Hinata's call. Maybe she should've called her sooner. She felt a little bit guilty now.

“Ah, it just slipped out of my mind.” Hinata laughed lightly, eyebrows curling outwards. “Sorry.”

“ _Meh, it's okay. It's just that father was getting a bit impatient. Like always._ ”

Hinata paused for a second. “Father?” She pressed her lips together. “Does he want something from me?” She twisted her fingers in her lap, a little bit worried.

Every time her father's name was brought up, every time conversations revolved around dad-daughter relationships, she felt insanely uncomfortable. She didn't have much connections to her progenitor, because that was literally what he was. A progenitor. There wasn't this spark of admiration or easiness some would associate to their dad. She never had this awkward phase one would experience in their teenage years with their parents. Mother gone, Father had took the responsibilities of the family. It was like his wife had been his soft spot. Once she died, his heart turned to stone. Lacerated by grief, he had tried to cover the scars of despair with a grave face and furrowed brows. It wasn't the right way to recover.

There was also the fact that her father had been associated with bad situations in her brain. Every time he would bring something up, every time he'd do anything that had any links with her, it always ended up to be negative. Even when he did nothing, it was horrible.

It was the thing with his father. His absence. Physical and emotional. His nothingness with her. That was the wrong thing. The missing key to salvation.

So of course, when her father was brought up by anyone, she started to worry. To stress. To freak out.

Because, even if she didn't know what was going to be brought up, she knew that it was bad.

She was scared of not knowing.

But still knowing about the horrendous fate of the conversation.

An endless pit of anxiety.

“ _Yeah. That's why I called you. Tomorrow the Otsutsuki family is coming to have dinner with us and father wants you to be a part of it. Family gathering with another, you know the stuff._ ”

And Hinata really didn't see that coming.

She really didn't feel the air move, but it was like a cold breeze was now brushing her skin with twisted desire. The kind that cannot be concealed. The kind that gives you chills down your spine.

Eyes suddenly lost in the patterns of the carpet at her feet, she thought for a second.

No.

No need to think. It was pointless.

The reality of the situation was striking.

That meant that he was probably coming.

No.

He was coming. She was sure of it. There was no room for doubt.

What if he was coming for her ?

“ _So are you coming or nah?_ ”

Hanabi's voice sounded annoyed.

She sucked in some air with her mouth.

“U-Um, of course! Of course, I'll come... Why wouldn't I...”

Of course she'd come. Of course she'd do what her father wanted her to do. She didn't want to disappoint. Not anyone, not ever.

Still. She really didn't want to go. She really didn't want to see him.

Not again, not ever.

“ _Huh, really? It's gonna be boring you know. Plus it's Toneri who gave the idea to father._ ”

Hinata brought her left hand to her chest, pressing hard. For some kind of relief. She began to toy with her necklace, chain intertwined messily in her fingers. Maybe she was trying to distract herself.

She really didn't like hearing his name.

It felt off.

“ _You know, I really don't like that guy. His fake kindness annoys me. It's like, he thinks he can do whatever he wants, that upsets me!_ ” She heard noise from Hanabi's side. When she was frustrated she always rambled on and on, adding unnecessary details, fuming. Most of the time Hinata wouldn't mind. She'd just listen in silence, the situation always a bit funny somehow.

Right now Hinata didn't really want to hear her rambling.

As the subject of the conversation made her feel very, very uneasy.

She licks her lips, heart a little bit faster, hands clutched to her chest. “Why do you suddenly despise him... ? I... I thought, I mean, you seemed to be okay with his presence.”

A moment. 

Hanabi stayed silent. She let a grunt escape her lips. “ _Argh, I don't know. He really just upsets me. Maybe I was too young before to notice his awkwardness and falseness._ ” She knew she was rolling her eyes now.

Hinata did not answer.

Mouth partially open, her mind was getting stuffed with numerous 'what if' scenarios. 

She fidgeted on the couch, waited for Hanabi to speak up again, waiting for the end of the call.

“ _But anyway, tell me more about your day. I'm sick of talking about it._ ”

The rest of the call, Hinata's answers were very short. A bit confused, in a kind of trance.

Mingling emotions.

All she had now were very unpleasant memories.

Upsetting ones.

Walking in the house, her reflection was distorted on the mirrors.

Repulsive.

On her bed, she wrapped herself tightly with her blanket, hugging firmly a pillow. Searching for comfort. For warmth.

She really didn't want it to turn out this way. She didn't want her mind to be filled with horrible situations, awkward and horrendous ones. She didn't want to remember the cold breezes of winter and snow forming in her chest. She didn't want to remember white and blue and ice.

Still her mind did not leave her alone. It stuck her eyelids to her eyebrow bones, left her eyes big, made them burn. It dried them and killed the plants and flowers in her organs.

She didn't get much sleep that night.


	7. slow burn

Naruto is scrutinizing his reflection in the mirror.

He's good fucking looking.

Blond hair wild, facing different parts of the bathroom's walls, curling in variant patterns. Many sharp angles, many highlights to his gorgeous hair color.

He steps closer to the glass figure, silhouette getting bigger, unseen details now reflecting on the flat surface. Running his eyes over what is the receptacle of his soul, he feels a flame slowly igniting in him, burning with a twisted desire.

He can perceive a slight rise in his body temperature, nearly concealed to the senses, but so clearly here at the same time. It's hot and ready to explode in his insides. Every ounce of him seems subjected to an intense emotion with no name. It is causing his body to quiver. It is as if the floor under him is ready to collapse at any given time. 

And he doesn't really feel like getting a hold of it any time soon. He doesn't really mind letting that unknown emotion explode. In fact, he'd be pleased to see it _boom_ in his guts.

What would it look like ? Feel like ?

He's able to hear it.

The constant _tiktak_ ing beginning.

The sound of a bomb ready to be unleashed. Ready to break anything near it. He only needed a trigger, whatever it was, to launch it to space.

Naruto feels like he's been stuffed with thousands of firecrackers.

He flicks on the light above the mirror.

Oh shit.

His skin. Did you see that ?

He turns his head to the left, light reflecting on his cheekbone.

He's two fingers away from fucking squirming of happiness. 

Makeup artist must be shaking in their cowboy boots right now 'cuz this star-like light isn't achievable by any highlighter – man-made that is. He's like, three hundred honey glazed doughnuts stuffed in one human being.

No, hold up. Actually he's seven hundred and seventy seven honey glazed doughnuts stuffed in one human being. Why so many sevens you ask ? Well, it's because he chose that number not long ago – two hours ago really – and decided that it was special. It's his lucky number. It's important you know. Why seven? He doesn't really know. No need to ask. No need to question such choices either. Because special magical things don't get questioned, or else they vanish. You have to believe in them to actually work. So seven it is.

Speaking of seven. This Sunday, it's the seventh of the month. And the last day of the week, which is the seventh day. Can you believe it? So many sevens. It's not a coincidence. It's a rare instance coming from the heavens above. 

Naruto never believed in destiny. Fuck that shit. But right now, he kinda feels attracted to the idea of 'made-to-be' and prophecies and stuff. Like, if it's good and doesn't fuck up my life, I might as well get it, no problems.

And he's meeting Hinata that day.

He's going to fucking explode from excitement.

But behold, the week yet is not over. The work has still not been completed, and the exhaustion is to be expected. Or prevented. Perhaps he'll be fatigued this weekend.

Mh.

Mmh.

Nah. no need to worry. He's feeling completely fine. And it's Wednesday evening. No need to worry.

But did you see those eyes?

He inches closer to the mirror, eyes wide. Studying his features. Eyelashes brownish, perhaps clinging to a unknown hue of blonde, curling close to his eyelids. His eyes are blue. A vivid blue. And Naruto doesn't know how to fucking describe things, but his eyes are damn blue. And it's not any regular blue. It's fucking Blue. It's blue but with an uppercase B because it's so fucking blue. And his eyes are surrounded by freckles varying in size and opacity, but it's not his main focus, because his eyes are fucking Blue.

Fucking Blue man.

It's so pretty.

He's amazing.

He hears a knock at the door. Actually he hears three, but they're slow and so disconnected and distant from each other that he wondered if any living human being could even be behind that boring sound.

“Naruto. Get out.”

Same ol' annoyed, grumpy voice.

“Yeah yeah, imma get out.” He says, absentmindedly.

Naruto gets three pumps of face wash gel in the cup of his left hand, and begins washing his face. His hands are working fast; first his cheeks, then his nose, forehead and chin. Get a couple hidden angles here and there and wash with cold water.

And he feels refreshed.

If Naruto from three weeks ago saw him doing that shit, well he may have laughed, or cried out of despair. Maybe a mix of both. 'Cuz you don't do that kind of BS when you're too exhausted to get out of your bed.

But right now ? He just feels like taking care of that beautiful face he has.

And that body too.

He catches himself on a staring match with his own reflection.

Is he a narcissist ? He never recalled acting this way before.

Well, maybe a couple of times really. But they never lasted too long. Just a random boost in confidence, random boost of self-awareness – the good one.

Is it bad ? Is he going to transform into those bastard that think only of themselves and never budge to the suffering of others ? Is he the reincarnation of that Greek guy who died because he stared at his complexion for too long in the water ?

Not that he believed in reincarnation. Nor will he ever fall in love with himself. But the thought was crazy, giving him chills. For real.

But I mean, it's never too bad to love yourself.

It's still better than hating yourself, he thought.

Naruto doesn't know for how long he stays in the bathroom. Brushing his teeth. Doing random poses. Catching a glance of himself. Overly brushing his teeth and hair again. Using some weird creams he finds in the set of drawers at his left. Who bought these? Shikamaru? Man, this guy was too busy laying on the floor day dreaming to be getting out buying skin care stuff. Did you see his hair ? A random high ponytail. He was sure that he wore it this way because he was too lazy to go to the barber shop and get it trimmed.

Then, that must mean that he was the one that bought those products, right ? Didn't make any sense because he doesn't actually care about skin care either. Well, now yes, but before ? Never. Maybe got them randomly one day 'cuz he suddenly felt like it. Random shopping sprees and money spending when he suddenly felt like it. Maybe some chick forgot it there. Not that he ever recalls such case, but you know, maybe.

Naruto's thoughts flow. And some don't even make sense. Most of them are self-centered, the others unconnected ideas and funny memories. It's like he's drunk, but wide awake at the same time. The mind is loud and racing against time. It is the feeling of being late without the stress, but all the time needed being at disposal. Weird, weird feeling. Weird feeling.

Feeling weird.

But ecstatic.

The music coming from his speakers gets really loud too.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

Banging on the door.

The door shivers.

“Naruto open the fucking door I need to fucking pee!”

Shikamaru is shouting and he seems damn furious.

Naruto, startled by the sound of the door literally quivering under the harsh palms of his friend, hurriedly takes his phone and gets out of the bathroom.

Upon meeting the hard glare of Shikamaru, he musters a quiet 'Sorry' with a grin on his face before receiving a slamming door in response.

Naruto stands here for roughly three seconds before moving out of the way.

Eyes wide.

You know the kind of crispy he likes ? Crispy crunchy cold Sprite McDonald like crisp.

Right now, there's a lot of bubbles in him.

They're rushing to the surface, meeting his brain.

He can't wait for them to explode.


	8. can't handle it all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the brain sometimes do weird shit and it freaks out for no apparent reasons. Hinata focuses on one issue and can't unsee those distorted sceneries.
> 
> she has to close the door and go forward. isn't it actually backwards ?
> 
> ready. set.
> 
> go.

Hinata is in the bus.

It's early in the morning. She had to wake up at six o'clock in order to get the bus coming at seven fifteen later on. The cold weather is not easy on her, and her skin quickly reacts to it. Redness overcomes her features, clogs her cheeks, nose, ears, knuckles – anything really. Her eyes are puffy and red. She did not sleep much that night. She was overthinking. Different scenarios playing in her mind over and over.

She was getting ready for the stuff coming ahead.

Psychologically.

If you ask her, maybe, then maybe she'd even say physically.

Head close to being parallel to the floor, she's staring. At her shoes more precisely. Since she doesn't have much to do, she tries to distract herself by checking multiple times, again and again, if her moccasins have any stain whatsoever. Dirt, scuff-mark from the painful passing of time, areas close to ripping, anything. If people saw something odd on her shoes, what would they think ?

Somewhat right now everything seemed to be about what would people think if she did this or that, or had this or that on her.

She was being extra careful.

The bus is crowded. There's little to no personal space. She was lucky to have her usual seat, right behind the conductor, but those standing in the corridor in between the dirty chairs and sweaty bodies must be suffering. Their skin seem sticky, as the dim lighting of the bus reflects on the moist surfaces, different colors and undertones shining. Some of these surfaces are textured, partially or completely, some smoother, some redder than others. Most women have hair sticking to their nape, the lucky ones have it short. Ladies are trying to create some kind of air flow with their tiny hands, waving them up and down in very exaggerated mannerism. Others just tie their hair in a very lazy ponytail or high bun, hoping that the heat will somehow decrease.

It's funny. The cold is crisp and threatening outside, but the heat generated by the nearly fulminating bodies and the bus' motor is enough to make her sweat. She's never been very tolerant of heat either. She never had a high tolerance on anything really. She's just a weak thing.

Hinata doesn't have her earbuds on, nor is she in possession of her phone. Those are hidden in the abyss of her bag, that now seems too far to reach casually.

It's right on her left.

If she reaches for it, maybe she'll somehow hurt someone with her elbow or her shoulder, and then she'd have to make eye contact and apologies and maybe they'll be mad and rumble something unpleasant under their breath and it'll make her very uncomfortable until she gets out of the bus and she'll start to feel horrible and since she went out of the bus she'll be late and everyone will laugh and Hinata doesn't want any of that to happen.

So she stares at her feet.

Her eyes are scared. Her whole being is scared of meeting somebody's stare by inadvertence. She doesn't want to upset anyone for any reason whatsoever. What would they think if they found her glancing at them. They'd stare at her too. They'd question her behavior. Why is she constantly staring at her feet ? Why is she so stoic ? Why isn't she pulling out her phone like everyone else ? They'd keep staring. They'd keep asking and wondering.

But turn it the other way around. If they're staring at her. It's probably because she's standing out. Maybe her hair is not properly brushed, maybe she has very puffy eyes or a toothpaste stain on the collar of her shirt.

Maybe she's just not a very pleasant sight to see.

Her belly hurts.

Oh no, she really doesn't want to be sick now. What if she throws up that fat breakfast she gulped down this morning out of shear stress and anxiousness ? She'll make a whole scene and everyone will be mad because it's disgusting and it's stinking now and why is this girl even here in the first place she's taking place and she's bothering everyone and making us late for our job and–

She breathes in. Takes her phone out. Puts on her ear buds. Tries to distract herself. Tries to brush the I'm-about-to-throw-out-all-over-the-floor kind of feeling crawling in her throat.

It usually works out.

But right now.

She just feels sick.

Sick to the core of her being.

She doesn't know how, but it somehow gets hotter than it was. She sweats much, much more. She can feel every drop of sweat rolling on her body. She tries to conceal the horrible belly ache by twisting her limbs in different ways, adopting different positions and engulfing every bit of saliva her organism throws at her.

Her mouth starts to water. A lot.

It's the deadly final sign.

The doors open.

Hinata gets out of the bus just in time. She was about to unleash everything remaining inside of her in the vehicle, but once out, once fresh air is easily transported to her lungs, she finds enough strength to gulp it all down.

It did not taste magnificent.

She did not take the time to check at which station she had stepped out the bus. Looking around her, she noticed that the very mast majority of buildings and habitations around here were unknown to her memory. She didn't know where she was.

But it's okay though, right ? She'd just have to wait for the next bus.

So she took a seat. Waiting.

Except it came fifteen minutes later.

And not only did she still feel horrible on the ride to school, but her mind kept telling her that she was going to be horribly late. Horribly, horribly late.

It is not an impression. It is a fact. A fact that makes her fingers nervous, clinging onto her skirt like a scared child would to their mother's shirt. Whining and crying and wetting their pants over slight discontentment ; she felt like she could do that too. Only she doesn't since she's too worried people would laugh at her. But hey, still cool like a breeze, right.

Hinata knew that she was going to be late. And with every latecomers comes the deadly sentence.

🎭

Hinata does end up being late.

And she feels cornered.

Before the awkward knock on the door she managed to perform at her arrival, she was running. Running in the streets. Running in the corridors, in the stairs. Just to not be too late. One might say that yes, once one is late then one shall not worry about aggravating one's case as the status of it may never change, whatever the following consequences may be. But hey, it's Hinata and Hinata's brain, and if her brain feels like fucking everything up then why not. You see, it seems like she has no control over what she thinks and the way she behaves. Everything is either stopped or introduced by her complicated way of proceeding daily chores.

So Hinata's brain decided to throw everything on the table ; if you are later than you are at this precise moment, what is the point in attending that class ? You know people will stare, as there is a difference between a mere five minutes and the quarter of an hour. People's eyes will be harsh, judging. They'll whisper, saying “Hey, why is she so late ? She's stopping the teacher just to introduce herself, it's annoying.”

Hinata really doesn't know what to do anymore.

In her confusion, she just ran. Because she was already out, she was already in front of the building. She had to attend that class. What if today they learned something important about anatomy or whatever topic, and she missed that class ? She would be behind everybody, they'd laugh at her and mock her because she's not good enough.

Her father always told her that late comers did not deserve to be present at any event.

He'd taught her to always be on time. Because that's what responsible people do. That's what people that can support businesses do.

She doesn't even know why she's thinking about that. It makes no sense.

So she knocks on the door.

She heard the loud but low grumble of the teacher's voice, shouting 'Come in!' from those now very terrifying four walls.

Hinata opens the door.

And every head turns.

She says hello, but the 'O' she manages to exhale is a little bit too long, lingering in her mouth. It's awkward, because her voice is shaking, and half of her body is hidden behind the door's frame. “Ah, I'm-- well, I'm sorry for being so late! I had uh, a problem with public transports – yes.” Her eyes try to avoid every face present in the room. She stares at a wall, then at a table, her set of shoes, the white board in the back of the classroom. And repeats the pattern. Until the teacher finally speaks up.

“Oh, you must be Miss Hyuga! You were the only one missing today. Take a sit, take a sit!” She hears ruffling across, papers being shuffled, pen clicking. The voice of the teacher is unfamiliar and raspy, but she doesn't dare look up from her now dirty shoes, eyes scared and lips pursing. She wants to run and hide in her usual spot, but keeps a slow pace as to not embarrass herself more.

God, she's the only late comer ? Her absence must've been even more obvious then.

She puts her stuff next to her tinny tiny desk, the temperature suddenly so far up it has become unbearable, clothes sucking her sweat with fervor, a zeal of passionate kind. She adjusts her hair for what seems like a millionth time behind her ear, prays that her shirt is not soaked with sweat and that her face is not too red.

“Good morning Hinata.”

She startles.

Hinata looks at her right.

Sai.

Eyes under the influence of surprise, she inhales for what seems like too long to be considered normal. She speaks. “Sai, hi, hello.” Her right hand is close to her heart.

“Did you notice the new teacher ? His hairstyle is pretty neat.” He smiles, and his eyes turn into literal crescents.

“New teacher...?” She's confused. The folds on top of her nose say so. Eyebrows practically merging, curiosity suddenly eating her inside, she looks around.

Her eyes meet a long, spiky drape of white hair, the upper half wrapped up in a very, very messy bun. The hairline is everything but a hairline, fair strands framing square jaw and wrinkly forehead.

Hinata blinks. How hadn't she noticed ? Now that she thinks about it, the low voice she heard earlier upon entering the room didn't ring a familiar tone to her ears. Why did their usual teacher disappear? Now, getting used to a new one will just make things more horrible than ever. Shyness and anxiety do not mix well, and right now she thinks the later is winning.

“Miss Hyuga.”

She nearly jumps off her seat.

The unknown man is smirking, arms crossed over his chest, manners full of pride; “I was just telling your fellow comrades that I will be replacing your teacher for the next few months as he, unfortunately, has health issues to deal with.” She hears his 'Meh, that's unfortunate..' and a heavy sigh escape his thin lips, two sharp wrinkles forming at the opposite ends of his mouth.

That sounds awful. For two reasons. First, she sincerely hopes that their teacher isn't too ill, so much so that standing on their feet would be impossible. What if they had an accident ? It is only the beginning of the year, and they are already getting a substitute teacher ? And for God knows how long. And secondly, follow up to the first problem, she'd have to get used to a new person. Now, it might not be too hard, it wasn't too complicated with the other professor, but right now, she was just plain anxious. What if this teacher was too sharp on the angles and just expected too much from her ?

Oh God.

She wants to become smaller than she actually is right now.

“I'll present myself again.” He clears his throat very loudly, as if to fill every corner of the room with his presence. Smiling broadly, he says “My name is Jiraya, and I will be your professor for, erm, probably the next few months.” He moves around the desk that has now become his, a beam much too bright to the students liking grabing his features, and takes a pen. Hinata doesn't really know why, but she feels like he isn't really fit to be a painting teacher. Something seemed... off.

“To be quite honest with you, I am actually a literature teacher. I study poetry and literary works at another university with other students, and I never thought that one day I'd be an art teacher.” He laughs. It's rough and loud, and Hinata feels a bit targeted for some reason, but she can also see that there is a part of honesty behind these boisterous 'Ha Ha Ha!'. She doesn't quite understand why.

“But I indeed am a big fan of art – really! – I wanted to be a very successful illustrator when I was younger but turns out pens and I don't work out well!”

He's laughing, sitting on top of the desk, hands on his knees. And everybody is just sitting here, wondering what's coming up next.

“Even though I'm just a mere story teller in your eyes, I got into and art school and tried my best. Yes, it didn't turn out how I wanted it to, but never – never! – question my abilities young fellas!” He eyes the students suspiciously, gaze oh so very serious, as if they would judge him gravely at any possible moment. Noticing no slight change in the still – very still – silence of the class, he regains his posture. “Erm, anyway. Me and your anatomy teacher are already working on some project together. We'll be mixing our two subjects – try and find a good mashup of techniques and all.”

Jiraya had a thing about him that made him mysterious. He's very obnoxiously out standing, laughs loudly and has a raspy voice that grits your ears. His cheeks are flushed red and blue veins can be perceived on the skin of his hands. He has a full head of white hair – very small curls that are brushed out for the most part. It's spiky, and doesn't seem pleasing to the touch. His shoulders make his presence more imposing, correcting his questionable jokes and lengthy monologues. He's wearing those shoes that squeak when in contact with the floor. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and his cargo pants are ridden all the way up to his ankles, revealing legs that are only partly covered with white hair. Somehow the bottom half is completely free of any bristle. Yes, she noticed that.

Really he doesn't seem like any regular teacher.

Hinata wonders how everything will go with him.

She looks at her right. Sai is scribbling something on his sketchbook – some random sketch of a tiger. He doesn't make much use of his pencils ; his pencil case is filled with pens filled with stark black ink. Pressure is the main key, so he won't use any regular ballpoint pen. She's seen him toy with Indian Ink many times now, it seems like it is indeed his very favorite thing to use. Perhaps 'toying' isn't the best verb to qualify such practice.

Hinata gazes at his lean fingers working on his little piece. Her eyes get lost on the black bangs falling in front of his eyes, contrasting with his fair complexion. Sai's eyelashes are long and fine, they don't curl up, just go straight forward. She gets lost in her observation of his features, grabs a pen, sketch a few eyes mimicking his own. The teacher's voice fill the still air of the room.

Sai and Hinata are paralleling each other's action at this very moment.

Drawing together, silently.

Drawing together.

It's Wednesday today.

And that's when it hits her.

🎭

“I'm so sorry Sai!”

Hinata is folded in half, hands to her side. Facing the floor, a curtain of thick dark hair casts over her face.

“Hinata, don't worry, I said it was okay.”

She looks up, hesitant. It seems like he is taken aback by all her... manners. Was it too much? Maybe she didn't have to bow down to him. Perhaps she looked like a complete idiot, spitting out quivering excuses.

She purses her lips, bangs falling straight in front of her eyes. Her fingers start intertwining. Her body hugs itself. Becomes smaller and smaller.

“It's okay, Hinata. Indeed, the hazards of life cannot be predicted. You did not know that such thing would happen.”

“Yes, I know, but– I mean, we were supposed to be completing our project and, just, I didn't know that I'd have to go to this family gathering. I should've told you yesterday but, it just slipped out of my mind, and now you brought all your stuff for nothing. I'm so sorry.”

“You know, all that thing is packed up in my car, it's not like it is a burden to transport it here or back to my floor.” His back is straight, he is unbothered. His hair is always perfectly parted.

“Yes but...” … But she still feels horrible about it ?

“If you're really bothered about it – which you shouldn't – we can just make some progress on our own and pool our works together.”

“Ah yes, that, yes it would be great.”

He smiles, seems contact with the agreement. “We'll talk more about this project through texts. See you soon, Hinata.”

“Yes, see you soon Sai.”

She waves at his figure before it vanishes in between the moving corpses in the corridor.

She would've preferred to spend the evening with Sai, paint, sketch, listen to music, do random stuff.

Actually she would've preferred to do anything other than going back to that house.

With him around.

🎭

Hinata inspects her reflection in the mirror.

She didn't put makeup on, she doesn't own much of it anyway.

Now she regrets.

She wish she had more of it. To hide all the horrible spots she was noticing only now upon hyper-inspecting every corner of her face. She had been thinking about this make up situation for so long now. It felt as if she had been watching herself for twenty minutes or so. She should watch the time though, because being late is not a possibility. She couldn't even consider such a thing happening. Never contemplate on the bad things is what she had been taught.

But she still spent close to half an hour scrutinizing herself.

Back to the makeup deal. In the end, it would've looked bad if she had put some on. She'd look like a clown. And her dad doesn't like makeup anyway.

She was just doing everything that was against her liking.

Well, at least she wasn't forced to wear something she didn't feel comfortable in. An a-line brown skirt remodels her silhouette, reaching right under her knees. One of her hand grabs her forearm, clutching the white fabric of the shirt tight. Every button is closed, firmly hugging her torso and ending close to her neck. Right on top of her collarbone lies a thin silver necklace with a dolphin at the very center of it. It is quite loose, seems as if it is reaching for the meeting point of her breasts.

She looks away from the mirror. Her fingers start losing themselves in the delicate pendant, tucking and knotting and tangling. She looks around. Her shoes are already on. Black varnished court shoes with rather broad and sturdy heels. They're not very high, and she feels comfortable in those. The sound they produce as they meet the hard parquet of her apartment satisfy her for some unknown reason.

The cute white socks with the lace at the very top make this whole process less appalling.

She's either going to freeze to death or sweat buckets tonight. Perhaps both, which is horrible. She doesn't layer too much clothes for this very reason. She just added a simple long camel coat to keep her warm out in the cold.

It's close to six by now. She should get going.

She looks around one last time.

And is disappointed to find nothing holding her back.

So she grabs the keys.

And closes the door.


	9. porcelain, dolls, and the fake warmth of the radiator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone, again, i am so so sorry for taking so much time writing this chapter ! however, whatever happens, i will continue writing this story. i love it way too much, and i know that once my life is more stable and school work gets out of my way, i will finally be able to unleash it's true power!! i thank every one of you who has been eagerly waiting for the upcoming chapter. i think one of the reasons of why i took so much time writing it is the fact that i couldn't come to a term with the ending... ah, please do not upset yourself as much as i did... such events are hard to write down...

Hinata busies herself with her phone. Scrolling through Quora, she tries to read the different answers to those unanswered questions many people run across in their life time. But alas, her mind lies somewhere else.

She is preoccupied with whatever is coming ahead.

Theories on still non-existent – but perhaps soon to be reality – occurrences travel through the crowded canals of her mind. Hypothesis on inexplicable instances are written in distorted cursive across the map of her body and she tries to focus. Tries to read all those letters, make sense to them, knot the words in understandable sentences. But she can't. She rereads and rereads, but the text on her phone screen doesn't make any sense. It's gibberish. Confusion arises and the lines get mixed up.

She chooses to listen to some music instead.

Hinata plugs in the jack outlet to her phone, secures the earphones tightly in her ears, and thus begins the symphony. She plays Purple Rain by Prince, listens closely to his guitar resonating in the background. 

She's in the streetcar. Not much people are on board – some guy is asleep in one of the chairs far away from her, and a young lady just got on last station. Her hands are full of groceries. A dad and his kid are right behind Hinata's back. She can't see them, but she hears their voice.

“Dad, where are you going ? Are you checking the tickets ?” The little boy's voice is oh so soft. It's full of innocence, rings a familiar pure tone to Hinata's ears.

“Yes, stay where you are, I'm coming.” The tickets now back into his hand, the man comes back to his son, sitting next to him. She doesn't dare turn around to take a look at the boy's face, but she's sure that he is the embodiment of cuteness.

He starts mumbling songs, eyes locked on the scenery on his right. It's all clear to see, the window the only barrier holding him in place. His father tries to hush him, worried his singing might annoy the people around. She doesn't really see why, it's not like they were much on board anyway. He could sing freely – he should, even, sing freely. He should grasp the feeling of freedom while he still can.

She sighs. Hinata tries to silence the rolling thoughts in her head with the music. Turning up the volume, sinking it all down. Killing it. At least she tries.

Sometimes she tells herself that, you know, it can't be that bad. The whole thing will last two hours at most, and then she'll find an excuse to fly back to her apartment. It's not like they stayed up late anyway.

But then, perhaps the two hours would be agonizingly long. Time would seem as if it would've been stopped, the tick tack of the comtoise clock frozen. That pendulum clock that would always resonate in the still air of the living room, its pulsation always perfectly timed, seemed to keep the other antiques of her dad silent. Minutes, hours, days, weeks, months sometimes would pass without a single thing happening. But she'd sit close to the dated wood of the clock, waiting and waiting. For something to break. For things to change. 

Years have now passed. She'll be back next to that clock, waiting for time to pass. The good parts always disappeared. She never looked at the hands ticking and ticking, running across the clock's screen, ending the moment so quickly, not noticing how fast time actually flies. And when the frightening moments reach her core, she won't be able to escape. Locked in the tight corridors of time, she won't be able to escape. When his eyes would lock with hers, she won't be able to escape. She won't be able to escape, because she can't avoid him. He always finds a way to corner her. Some way.

He's inevitable.

She nervously unlocks her phone. Does it several times. As if she's expecting a text from someone. She looks at the time, but doesn't actually register it. She reads the station names written above the streetcar's door, tries to remember which one she's actually supposed to get off on, but it doesn't register. She unlocks her phone. Does it several times. Again.

She grows tired of it.

Eventually Hinata reaches her destination. She gets off the vehicle, face attacked by the crisp cold of the night yet again. As the streetcar drives away, disappearing far into the distance, melting with the cars in the horizon, she gets her phone out of her pocket. 'I'm close to the house. Just a couple of minutes on foot left.', is what she sends to Hanabi. She gets an immediate reply. It's like Hanabi has been waiting for her to text her. But perhaps it's because she's always on her phone. Maybe the two. 'okay!! just text me when youre in front of the house ill open the door for u'. Hinata smiles. At least she was sure that she wouldn't have any bad surprises opening the door.

Hands back in the pockets of her coat, she begins to walk. Her eyes lose themselves in the scenery : buildings on the right, houses with yards on the left. Right in the middle – it had always been this way. Nor too bad, nor excellent. That's the problem with her, just enough. She wasn't satisfied with just enough. Her dad sure wasn't as well.

Her thoughts had no correlation at all.

Hinata's steps seemed to resonate in that huge city of ugly contrasts and crushed citizens. She didn’t like this place. Too much memories. She didn't like remembering. She wanted to move forward and just forget. She wanted to play games with Naruto and forget. She wanted to paint with Sai and forget. She wanted to get her hair braided by Sakura and her nails done by Ino and just forget.

Why did she always have to come back.

Why do we have to come back to our origins. Can't we just forget. Just ignore. Not have stupid dreams that make her feel like throwing up in the morning. Not have dumb flashbacks, sensations and sounds that make her remember all the horrendous stuff. Why.

All of this is the basis of PTSD. She knows it. It's the sinking of the soul back into the abyss of the brain. It's memories so short but so vivid. Hands so cold, fingers torturing and horrible sensations. And Hinata can't stop thinking about them. She can't stop thinking about closed doors and slow music being played. She can't stop thinking about bodies being pressed behind her back and words sliding in her ears. She just can't stop remembering.

She just wants to cry right now.

But her steps did not stop. She was still walking, getting closer to the house. She does a sharp turn to the left, silhouette collapsing in between the houses. It's so obvious that this is a rich neighborhood : every single house has those thingies where you tap a code to enter, little cameras at the front door and damned garages. And let's not talk about those huge yards. Trees and bushes decorated with pale flowers seemed to be clinging to the fences. It is as if they wanted to escape those closed spaces, as if they wanted to reach freedom and start living. Growing, taking all the space, suffocating it. Suffocating her.

She felt so weird being here.

In no time she finds herself in front of the main door.

Just as was agreed on, she texts Hanabi, informing her of her immediate arrival. ‘Open the door, I’m right in front of it.’ She taps on the screen of her phone with vivacity. Her fingers are so cold, they’re bright red. Gosh. It hurts.

Waiting for a bit in the cold, she stares at the bright cell in her hands. Could somebody save her from this already horrifying family meeting? A call, a text, a mail. Whatever. Even an important school work that had to be done on the following day would be better than this. Perhaps a text from Naruto.

Silly thought.

Why would he.

The door opens in a loud noise.

“Hinata!”

And all she sees is a jumping Hanabi.

“H-Hanabi! Hey, how are you?” Now her hands are around Hinata’s neck, and she’s hugging her very hard. She can’t help herself but smile. She hadn’t seen her sister in such a long time, having her close to her, hugging her, it all felt so great. Seeing her smile really did make her happy.

She felt warm.

“Gosh, I was waiting for you!” She takes a step back, admiring her older sister’s eyes, features, clothes. Hands in hers, she seems so happy. Hinata feels warm. “Not that I missed you, but I missed you.” Hanabi says, quirky smile stretching her lips. 

“I missed you too.” She missed her a lot. A lot. She just wished they didn’t have to meet again here, with him around.

Hanabi gets closer to her ears, slightly whispering. “It’s damn boring out here. They discuss serious business stuff, it’s no fun.” 

“Well, that’s what they’ve always been doing.” Hinata smiles, but it’s sour. “I don’t recall discussing anything other than school, family matters and business with father.”

“Meeehh, still. It’s boring. Plus, I don’t intend to get used to it.” Hanabi guides her to the entry way. Hinata takes her shoes off while Hanabi hangs her coat on the coat rack right next to the door. “If I get used to that plain stuff, I’ll be a hindrance to life itself. No entertaining conversation will ever come out of my mouth ever again.” She dramatically throws her hands in the air, hair strands spreading across her face. Laughter fills the walls, easy stuff.

Hanabi ducks her head slowly, facing the floor. Cheeks slightly pink, she looks at her sister from the corner of her eye, smile hesitant.

“I’m happy that you were able to come.” She turns around, fully facing her, hands behind her back. “It was getting lonely, you know.”

Hinata smiles. Her sister, while annoying sometimes (but really, isn’t that the sole job of sisters?), was a cutie. With a lot of energy. And sass.

They have small talk in front of the closed door, only barrier keeping them from escaping the fiasco that this house really was. They’re trying to spend as much time together, alone, talking about things that interested them both, not topics that required specific manners and conducts. But alas, the charm must be broken.

Troublesome factor.

And it’s the sound of oxford shoes, crisp heels on hard wood floor.

“Hinata.”

It’s a soft voice. It doesn’t make the walls shiver with fear, unlike her father’s. It puts you to sleep, soothes you, makes the hurt less difficult to bear, makes the wounds less deep. But it’s all misleading. It’s deceptive.

It’s fake.

Turning around, she wants to believe to have misheard it. But she knows it too well, the face of porcelain dotted with perfectly round and black beauty spots. She knows it too well, the curve of his wavy hair, the spreading of his shoulders, the lengthy and lined dark pants.

She knows them too well, those slender, white, cold hands.

And that smile.

“T-Toneri… Hello.”

The name. It leaves a sour taste on her tongue, like she isn’t supposed to be talking about him, or to him.

He takes her hand, kisses the back of it. 

“It has been such a long time since we last saw each other. Why didn’t you pay me and our family a visit?” Toneri’s eyes are so clear. They make you screech as they strip you naked, revealing all of your assets and flaws to the world. You meet his glare, you’re dead.

So she avoids eye contact.

“Haha, w-well. I’ve been quite busy, if I might say so. The school work has been keeping my hands full, y-yes.” Bust retracted, shoulders reaching for the sky, eyes running nervously over the tiny room, hands close to her silhouette. It’s so obvious she wants to escape. 

“Yes! My sister is so busy she doesn’t even have the time to keep me up with her life with a few calls! How unfortunate, right?” Hinata nervously eyes Hanabi. She seemed… perturbed ?

“Is that so ?” Toneri trails his eyes over Hinata, frosty eyes drawing curves in her glassy ones, crooked body. He smiles, head tilting slightly. “Well, that is indeed very unfortunate.” His hand is still in hers, so he brings it closer to his chest, mimicking warming gestures. Seems like it. “I would very much like hearing more about that busy life of yours Hinata, it does intrigue me.”

The air is so heavy. She feels trapped.

Hanabi clasps her hands loudly. 

Air is shattered. Clearing her throat, she announces, “How about we go eating, huh? Everyone has been waiting for Hinata, am I not right? Plus, you must be craving food, spending all of that time in the transports!” She takes Hinata’s hand, guiding her through the corridors, leaving Toneri behind. “Come Hinata, we’re going to the dining room, they’re already seated, all of them.”

Hanabi’s lips form a straight line. While her features are soft, her hand on hers is strong. Reassuring perhaps. Hinata just follows her lead, but she can feel the steps of the wolf in the grandma disguise behind her back. She does not dare turn around, fearing to be sucked up in the black hole of his stare.

Hanabi. Those steps of hers, they’re so fierce. “H-Hanabi, s-slow down.” Her heels, covered in white socks, make banging sounds of the hard floor. “There’s no need for us to be going so fast.” Again, a difference creases between them. She just continues pushing forward, loud feet banging as hard as the pulsing of her heart, dragging her by the arm. Hinata can just follow, close to her back, clinging to her only escape from the big bad guy.

“You know Hinata, I take back what I said. I prefer transforming into a boring old lady rather than to spend time with that guy.” Eyebrows furrowed, anger.

“Wha-…?” Wait, what?

She can’t question her words, because Hanabi flings open the sliding door of the dining room.

Ah, what a reluctant feeling of nostalgia.

“Hinata.” That voice calls. He’s seated at the far end of the table, towering over everyone.

“Father.”

Oh, how she can feel her heart retreat in her chest.

Hanabi advances, like it’s nothing, like it’s not a threat to her very being. Because it probably isn’t. Unlike Hinata, she’d continued spending her preceding days in this very house. Accustomed to his presence, his manners and most importantly, baleful stare, she doesn’t sink when confronted to his imposing self. It is as if, in this tiny handful of years Hinata spent hiding in her tiny house full of plants and games, she’d erased those habits. Good thing or bad thing, the thing was that now, she was utterly terrified.

She bows, eyes glossy. She doesn’t really know what to say, every word collapsing in her mind suggesting an ounce of wrong. It’s wrong, she thinks to herself. All this. Even her words, calculated and meticulously sized and resized, felt so wrong. Like it wasn’t what she was expected to be saying. Like they all wanted something better.

“Sit. We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Y-Yes.” Straightening her back, she quickly sits right next to Hanabi, whose attitude seems completely unbothered. At the table, she spots Toneri’s father a man whose face reflected the passing of time, but whom smile gleamed like the moon on a lake’s surface. Right next to him was this radiant, radiant women, whose features where so delicate she thought the frame of her wavy cream hair would break her. Long, straight eyelashes veiled her eyes, but she could oh so clearly discern the white surrounding her pupils. A faint smile drew lines on her porcelain-like skin, a small, black beauty spot right on the left corner of her lips. Still, no laugh lines creased her beautiful face. It was kind of creepy, now that she inspected her so well.

“Hinata.” The calling of her name snaps her from her reverie. It was coming from Toneri’s father, face surprisingly gentle. What did they all have, calling her name so dramatically? “It has been a long time since we last saw you. How have you been? I heard you live on your own.”

“A-Ah, well, yes. That is true. W-While I had a roommate before, I’ve been living on my own for the past couple of months.” She smiles, hands crisp on her lap. She hears the shuffling of fabric at her left. Her eyes catch at their corner Toneri sitting across from her, his father facing her own.

“I sure believe it to be quite exciting to finally have some independence and responsibility.” Toneri’s tone is playful and his eyes glimmer in the vivid lighting of the room. At his wrist, a silver bracelet cages his skin. It’s delicate, like him.

Or not.

“Well, I wouldn’t really use the word exciting.” She nervously laughs. “However, It sure is a lot of responsibility. All it takes is a bit of organization, is what I believe. And self assurance, yes.” That was awfully true. Papers pile up, money falls through the holes in her hands and, as she starts doubting herself, people doubt her too. And they leave. Roommates leave, they come and go, like the waves of wind coming from her kitchen window. The moment she flinches, the moment she loses her inner balance, is the moment she falls. It’s like being purchased by wolves: you make any mistake, you die by their fangs. You’re forced to believe that you can make it. Otherwise, who will?

Hanabi smiles smugly. “I’m made for that. I’m organized and self assurance surely isn’t the asset I lack.” Hand on top of her chest, she claims her presence. Hinata smiles, amused by her sister’s antics.

“Do you have a job?”

Father’s voice rings like silver cutlery on rusted iron.

“Y-Yes. Two, actually.” It’s like a gasp stays gripping to her voice. Relax, for God’s sake. “I have a job at a flower shop, and another at a coffee shop. I’d say I… I prefer the flower shop, for different reasons.” She licks her lips.

“Which are?” Toneri’s hands wave for her to continue.

“Ah- well, the owner is very kind and friendly.” He’s got a very attractive god son. “The flowers smell very good, and even though it’s a mix of various scents in one room, it weirdly matches well.” She lets the corner of her lips crook a tiny smile. “I can sketch the different bouquets the owner customs while the shop is empty, a-and he tells me about their composition. Why such and such flower is next to the other, what appeals more to such and such customer.” Sometimes she catches Naruto’s figure coming from the back door, carrying boxes of material. She catches the sweat on his forehead, his bangs sticking on it, the red cap he wears while helping his godfather sealing his wild haircut. “It’s just very charming. The coffee shop is always full of people, I don’t feel very comfortable in hectic environments.” She nervously laughs, scratching her cheek. She has said a whole lot of things. Now, she felt embarrassed.

That woman, kept silent until now, finally breaks her own silence with a smile. She eyes her. “You sure seem to be having fun.”

Hinata is a bit surprised. Aren’t they supposed to tell her that flower and coffee shops are useless, time wasting jobs? “Y-Yes, indeed.” She smiles back, hesitant.

“Couldn’t you find any better?” Her father’s gaze is heavy on her figure. The white walls and lighting marry well with his stern eyes, demanding for her words to fill the answer to his question.

She backs down, excitement in her voice fading, disappearing. Eyes focused on the crisp hands on her lap, she feels ashamed. For what? She likes the flower shop. But Oh, god knows how ashamed she feels for even showing liking to it in front of him. “I’ve not… I have not found any that suited both my liking and skills.” Like that mattered to him.

He doesn’t answer back.

“In which kind of school are you, Hinata?” Toneri’s father guides the conversation, filling the silence Hiashi gave as a response. She doesn’t know if he keeps asking questions because he’s interested in her, or if he just doesn’t want to feel the burden of a white silence.

White. Everything’s so white here.

She feels apprehension at the reveal of her truth. “A-Art school.”

Toneri smiles broadly. “Art school? That suits you. You always enjoyed creating things when we were younger. I see you haven’t lost that creative mind of yours.” His eyes leak affection, unraveling to his thick eyelashes like opaque paint on thin fabric.

“Hinata is extremely talented.’ Hanabi says, words hectic, likes she’s trying to prove a point. Hinata eyes her, flattered, embarrassed, but also confused, as to why this sudden statement of… fact? Is it really fact?

“I would never doubt that.” Oh the look in his eyes, calling and effervescent in dominance. It glows in such distinct way. Why?

“Ah, t-thanks for the compliment, I guess?” Her eyebrows are crooked in confusion and uncertainty. What is this situation anyway?

His smile continues to spread on his face. “You’re welcomed.”

“Do you have any project after this?” 

No need to mention the name, everybody knows who asks such questions. She gulps down. Hesitates. Should I look at him, or keep my eyes to myself? Collect your thoughts, collect your thoughts.

“I… I want to be an illustrator.” Of course, it’s uncertain, but who’s certain anyway? You’re certain only when you’re rich, of good family, a guy, and of a certain race. So yeah, not a whole lot of people.

“Everybody wants something Hinata.” For the first time since she entered the room, she feels like he acknowledges her existence. “Wanting is not enough. Children want, adults do. You mention responsibility and self assurance, but still nurture childish dreams. Illustrator is a brittle carrier choice. Not only unstable, but unprofessional.” He brings his glass filled with wine to his thin lips, drinking the beverage in distinct stealth. Indiscernible.

Indiscernible.

Like the shatter of her so called self assurance.

But not like the horror on her face.

It’s all back to square one.

The doubt.

The shame.

The hate.

All because of words.

She’d continued telling herself how empty those words were, how uncertain they were, too. How they were just words. Words can’t define her choices. Words do not define her future.

But now that she’s back here. Now that her father has spoke to her, with the consideration of her presence. Now, she doubts.

In the end, could he be right?

This uncertainty. Isn’t she the frail one? With unsteady legs on an unsteady rope, she tries to fake her stability. But the void beneath her feet calls her name. It’s hungry, and it wants to consume her whole.

She wants to be consumed.

At this very instant.

Consume me.

🎭

The dinner does not go well. At least for her. Shaken by her father’s words, the balance she managed to acquire while in the transportation was destroyed in a few seconds. The following minutes felt like tiny, sharp shattered glass slicing her skin. They all continued living like nothing happened, but she felt like the time had started ticking backwards. Hanabi seemed to have noticed that, as she, from time to time, kicked Hinaat’s legs with the side of her foot. Trying to keep her head above the rising water level, she talked to her, answered on her behalf to questions the Otsutsuki family directed at her. And Hinata noticed it all, noticed the moving lips, the cutlery on the plates, the red tint of the wine in the glasses. Still, she felt trapped in the strands of time. Why, why couldn’t she do a thing? Why did her thoughts seem to run so fast in her head, but so slow at the same time? Why couldn’t she focus?

God, the strain in her throat made her want to cry.

Food was brought on the table, plates were going in and out, barely touched. Drinks poured, gulped down. Hinata, on the other hand, couldn’t swallow water. Or anything for a fact. She noticed the grease on top of the meat, the livid color of the lettuce and the colorless fruits. She saw their mouths munching on the food, making those horrible sounds with their tongues, throats letting the gruesome result of their hideous mastication rub through their walls. Oh, how bad she wanted to throw up. Look at those knifes cutting the fabric of the gray meat, their straight teeth lacerating, shredding, tearing into strips. Grease, is all she saw. Food, was no good.

Toneri never left her. He was here. Next to her. Eyes on her. Eyeing her. Speaking to her. Asking things about her. About her.

She didn’t miss the smiles, the curling of his eyes into crescents, the shadow of his lashes on his cheeks, the crooking of his thin eyebrows. She didn’t miss the moving of his hands, his shoes bumping with her feet. His voice calling out her name. The tip of his fingers tracing the curve of his glass. The rising and lowering of his chest.

Why was she paying so much attention to him. She just wanted to ignore him.

That woman next to him. Who was she? His mother, she never met her, and she would never. He only had his father to accompany him through life, mother left to join the immaterial side of the world. Was she the governor of the house? Or the one who took care of him? But he was a grown man. Twenty-nine years of age, she’d guess, broad shouldered, he ran his father’s business. A promising child, since the very beginning of his existence, he was guaranteed a shining future. His perfect, delicate face sure deceived every living soul.

Every.

She could care less about who this woman was. 

His father followed his son on the intruding personal questions bandwagon, leaving her shaken each time.

Just what was up with this dinner.

When the air felt too heavy to bear, she stood up from her seat, making herself as little as possible.

“Excuse me, but, I will now return to my house.” She kept her hands close to her body.

“Already, Hinata? This is very unfortunate.” Toneri’s father stands up, his son mimicking his action.

“Y-Yes. I-It’s quite late, and I have to take the transports to go back to my place.”

Hanabi stood up as well, getting closer to her. “I’ll lead you to the enter.”

Toneri’s father acts as a barrier, blocking the way to the door. “At least let Toneri drive you home. It would be a shame for us to let you go alone so late in the night.”

He smiles, bowing slightly. “Please, let me do so, Hinata.”

What appalling decomposition of her face. 

“A-Ah? N-No. I mean, I wouldn’t want to bother you, I- I can go back to my house on my own, do not bother, please.” She waves her hands in hesitating movements, trying to deny. She can’t. She just can’t do that.

“Don’t worry you are not of any bother to me. I’d gladly deposit you to your house, so you can arrive safely.”

Oh, God. Send me some help.

Hinata follows Hanabi to the entryway, Toneri following behind.

Get me out of this situation.

She wears her coat, ties her shoes. He mimics.

I beg for forgiveness, whatever I have done that may have wronged you.

He smiles at her. Towering over her, it’s like he’s laughing at her. Look, I’ve got the power to do whatever I please, you’ve got no power, his eyes say. She gulps down, looks at Hanabi. They wave goodbye, he closes the door.

But please, save me from this situation.

He guides her to the car, opens her door. She slips in her seat, hands quivering, body cold. When he gets in, closing his door, it’s like a violent wind has taken the car for house. He waves at her seat belt, telling her to clasp it on. She does. She does whatever he says. But that seat belt, isn’t it keeping her from escaping?

She has a hard time breathing.

“Settled in?” He looks her way, smiles.

She returns the look, much more terrified.

Now, lead me to you house, he says.

If there is any God hearing me,

Get me out of here.

🎭

“Are you warm enough? I’ve put the heating on.” His voice has that uncovered dew to it that leaves her wondering… for whatever.

The car ride is silent enough. Enough that she can hear her beating heart freak in her chest, and her thoughts run errands in the store of Confused Screaming For All 24/7.

“Y-Yes...” Still it’s cold. There’s something about him that makes the warmth of happiness leave the heart. It consumes the security her beloveds afford to lend her, draws a line on her very being. She can’t describe it. It’s just bad.

She doesn’t want to talk to him. But she doesn’t want to upset him either. So she says things. They don’t mean much. They just keep the conversation going. They fill the unsettling silence. They also seem to be filling his mouth. He keeps asking questions. What do you in your free time? What do you think about when you draw? Is there a reason as to why you joined this specific school? Why illustration?

When it’s her friends who ask her such questions, she’s thrilled. She can talk about the things she like, the stuff she works on, which palettes she likes the most and which materials she feels the most confident using.

When Naruto asks her questions, she feels warmth spreading from her very core. When his eyes stay staring, blue invading her field of vision, she can feel herself blush. It’s genuine curiosity that only asks to be relieved. It’s cute, loud laughter and playful grins. It’s the crease of his skin at his beam, crescents under his eyes and lines forming at the corner of his lips. He pays close attention to what she says, like her words are valuable gold taking flight from her mouth. As his brows frown in concentration, he licks his lips slowly, pressing slightly on them afterward. They come out cherry red. Naruto is warm.

Toneri’s questions terrify her. They unsettle her, make her reluctant to answer. What is he going to do with such information? Why is he so interested in her? Why is he so keen to keep going with that endless interrogation?

He makes her shiver.

No warmth comes out of his body. He’s like inanimate porcelain.

He’s like a doll.

“Hinata.” His voice calls out again. “Do you remember, what we used to do when you came at our house?”

Her breath stops. The traffic is dense in this area. The car trembles along with the motor, fake warmth clouding its insides. It doesn’t advance forward, it stays still like the other vehicles on the road.

“I would show you around. I’d introduce you to the marionettes and dolls filling the walls and antique storage units. I’d tell you their names, their stories. We’d play with them.” His grip on the wheel tightens. She gulps down. “Now you’ve grown up. You don’t have to rely on your dad or an adult to come visit and play around with the dolls. Still you don’t come.”

Where is this conversation going?

She starts tugging at her necklace, fingers itching to grab onto something. He continues. “Why is that? I wonder. You promised you’d fill the house with friends and not dolls.”

She doesn’t know what to answer. She doesn’t know what to answer. She doesn’t know what to think. She doesn’t even dare look at him.

“I wish you’d come more often, mh?” He isn’t looking at her, his eyes are glued to the scenery in front of him. How comes the cars have started moving again? She hadn’t noticed. “It’s getting lonely.”

What do you want me to think about? What do you want me to answer? What do you want from me? She asks, she asks, but nobody answers. They ask, she answers. It’s that simple. Why don’t her questions get answered? Why is she always left to think over and over again and again? What is the point of all of this?

They keep going for a few minutes. She wouldn’t know, she lost track of time. But again, the car stops, traffic coarse.

“Damned traffic.” She can hear him mutter under his breath, hands tight on the wheel.

“I-It’s okay. I’ll just walk from here.” She gathers her stuff. Which stuff, you ask? Just her bag. She just tries to look anywhere but his face.

“What?” He turns around facing her. “We’re in the middle of the road, you can’t just walk out.” Is it worry she reads, or fear of losing control?

“No, really it’s okay. I- There’s just a few minutes of walking from here to my house anyway. You don’t have to go all the way up there, I-I’m fine.” She looks at him for the first time they got in the car. “T-Thank you, for b-bringing me all the way up here. I will manage, from now.” She smiles, it’s uneasy.

And he hugs her.

She feels her eyes might explode if she continues to open them so wide.

His hands, on her back, encircle her body. They leave no space to breathe, no space to escape. He hugs her, and his hands encircle her body.

He’s everywhere.

She doesn’t hug back.

When his arms leave her back, he looks at her directly into the eyes, stare unshameful. 

“Please do visit. I’ll wait.” She nods. She nods. “Or else I’ll have to come find you myself.” He laughs a silly laugh. A delicate laugh, very smooth.

She gets out of the car. Starts walking. She can feel his stare on her back. So she walks faster.

She walks faster she wants to run.

Hinata just can’t order her thoughts. Really, she just wants to scream “What the fuck?” Over and over again.

What’s his problem. Why would he do such a thing?

Rain. It’s raining right? Her vision is trouble. It’s all mushed up.

She walks so fast she finds herself right in front of her apartment. Wobbling in the stairs, legs weak. Opening the door.

And the sight is horrifying. Why did she have to put a mirror next to the front door? Isn’t that the worst idea ever?

She looks at herself, looks at the wet hair strands, the red eyes and the confused brows. She stares at her body, it seems so distorted. In those clothes she despise, she sees the contrary of comfort and assurance. She notices those imperfections she’d learned to conceal. Looks at those lines her silhouette draws on the cold surface of the mirror.

She takes off her shoes. Her vision, it’s blurred.

Why, why would he do such a thing? Why would he decide to do such a thing? Doesn’t he know?

Doesn’t he remember?

She opens the bathroom door. Taking off her clothes, she inspects again. Flesh upon flesh. It folds in unpleasing manners. Unlike dolls, unlike porcelain, it is not molded to perfection. It turns and twirls in patterns she distaste.

Upon such sight, she can’t help herself but shed tears.

This body he led to destruction, this body that used to be small and thin.

How does one simply forget laying his hands on it?

Cupping her most private attributes with unsheathed desires, fingers long, thin and cold. How does one simply forget?

Because she doesn’t. She can’t. She can’t forget the sensation of snow between her legs, or the press of wide shoulders on her back. She can’t unsee the darkness under her belly, or the silhouette of hands traveling up her legs.

Hinata sinks down to the floor. Skin cold. Why doesn’t he feel any shame, any remorse? It is as if he doesn’t care.

And she cries. And she wishes things were different, wishes she wasn’t so weak, wishes her voice wasn’t silenced for so long.

Wishes to hug her innocent self. 

Wishes that, in those early years of her life, her father had cared for her. For not to let this porcelain-faced man reach her body.

She cries, for the crimes this monster committed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas to everyone who celebrates! mmh, i might or might not post a chapter tomorrow, the magic of christmas you know... right, right...


	10. park smell and forgotten ice tea bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata's body is cold on the bathroom floor. As the time stops for her, it's running for Naruto. Across the city, in the cold streets, he walks.

Naruto didn’t know how the fuck he ended up here.

He was slouching on a chair, in the cinema theater, far from the screen, which was showcasing the credits of a movie he didn’t know the name of. He noticed people going out of the huge room, laughing and smiling and all. Some dumped their rubbish, soda cans and pop corn recipes in the trash can before exiting. He rubbed his eyes vigorously, his vision still a little blurry.

What movie did he come to see anyway? He looked for a ticket in the cavity of his clothes, and once he found one in the back pocket of his cargo pants, he took it out, placing it in front of his face. He blinked a couple of times and began to read the bold words written on the tiny blue paper.

He didn’t even recognize the movie name. Seemed like it was a humor oriented movie, as most of the people that he saw exiting the theater were still laughing and smiling. Well he didn’t remember much from it, he must have fell asleep during the advertisements playing at the beginning.

The only thing that he remembered clearly was that he had the sudden urge to take a shower at 8pm and make deep researches on whatever ingredients constituted his instant ramen. Then he wanted to go see a movie and then he somehow ended up here. Well, seems like he even bought an Ice Tea bottle before getting in the theater. He didn’t consume it though. Of course he fell asleep; he hadn’t slept in two days. Seems like he was woken up by the loud cheering and clapping the spectators did at the end of the movie. 

The credits had just stopped rolling and it was time for him to get out of here. He adjusted his shirt and ruffled his hair before pushing the door. He walked through the hallways and began following the very few people who still had to exist the place. Once finally out, he inhaled the air, kept it in his lungs for a few seconds, and exhaled. 

And that’s when he realized it was October and it was cold and windy and he was wearing a black t-shirt. And it was also dark outside, like 11pm or something. He checked on his phone, which was in his left pocket, and yeah, he was right. Why the hell would he go see a movie at night, alone, without a coat? And on top of that, he didn’t know the place.

Yeah, he got to a movie theater that he didn’t know in a place he didn’t know.

Did he come here with the assistance of public transports or the sole strength of his legs? Either way, he was pretty far from home.

Typing some things on his phone, fingers running, he tried to find a way out of there. Google always has the answer to his problems. Hell, what would he be without google? A half assed asshole with no knowledge about anything whatsoever. He typed up his own home address and clicked to find the itinerary that would keep him from losing himself. Google Maps, his only savior.

It gave him some directions and some buses to take in order to find shelter in his own home. He’d walk to the nearest bus stop to take the next one, then. He just wanted to feel the wind on his face. Just that.

Walking, he took in the scenery before him. It’s the time of the night were strange looking guys start to wobble on their feet and groups of dudes go out eating fast food, gulping down unholy amounts of beer. For fun. Naruto wants to have fun too.

His warm breath forms clouds in front of his face. He walks into a park, grass and sandy ground coating his nostrils with the smell of **Park Smell**. Park Smell and… _Dog Smell_?

“Naruto?”

“Huh?” He turns around.

“What the fuck? Kiba?!” Hereby stands Kiba, gray tracksuit on, a huge white dog at his feet. Akamaru. He barks at Naruto’s silhouette. “What the hell are you doing out here so late in the night?” Naruto asks, bewildered. Out of every single human being on earth, he meets with Kiba. Kiba, for God’s sake.

“That’s my line! Besides, I have a dog to walk. Unlike you.” He ‘tsks’ at him, hand burrowed in his pockets. “Are you walking yourself out? ‘Cuz you kinda look like a dog sniffin’ the air like a dumbass.” He smirks, proud of his snarky remark.

“Huh?! Who’s the dog here, the one who casually smells the air or the one who tastes his own dog food to make sure his dog has a healthy diet??” Naruto makes sharp movements with his hands, emphasizing his point.

“K-Keh! What are you saying?! I-It only happened once!” Kiba blushes, eyebrows furrowed, furious. Embarrassment mixed with frustration and anger.

“Well it still happened, which proves my point.” Naruto crosses his arms over his chest, prideful. 

Last time the boys went to Kiba’s place, some weird things were witnessed. Bottles of beer scattered on the floor along with Shikamaru’s sleeping body, they had been playing games, which got dumber and dumber as the minutes continued spilling. As laughter filled the room, grumbles in their bellies called out for attention. Naruto and Kiba stood up, going to the kitchen to grab some snacks to gulp down and calm their screaming stomachs. Akamaru followed their steps, whining for food along with them. Kiba, naturally, pulled out a large bag of dog food under the sink. Looking at the dry pieces of food in the huge sack, the brown haired dog owner noticed weird colors tinting their exterior shell. Suspicion arises as he brings one piece to his eyes, inspecting it. Naruto watches, bags of various types of potato chips secured in his arms. But that weird guy, instead of checking the expiring date like any normal human being, chooses to take one of those confusingly shaped brown thingies to his mouth, eating the thing. Like that’s the most rational thing to do? Eventually the guy realizes it’s fucking disgusting, and Naruto can’t help but burst into laughter. Screams of disgust and mocking shrieks spread in the house, Naruto running in the living room to warn the others about the turn of events. ‘Kiba’s turning into a dog!’ Now that he thinks about it, it was kinda dumb. But who cares, he’d never let that die. The look of disgust Kiba drew on his face after he munched on the questioning food would go down in history.

Naruto continues teasing Kiba on the matter, mocking snicker coating the air around them. Kiba is easily disturbed by whatever comes at him, seeing him so frustrated, blush on his cheeks and furrowing eyebrows is just way too good.

“A-Anyway! Who cares! You still didn’t answer my question.” Akamaru leaves Kiba’s side to go walk around, paws caressing the humid grass. “What are you doing here? This ain’t your neighborhood, I believe.” Kiba looks at him, hair ruffled by the wind in symbiosis with the leaves in the trees.

Naruto takes out the ticket in the cavities of his jean pocket, showcasing it to his friend. “Kinda went to see a film I don’t know a thing about in a place I don’t know a thing about.” He shrugs his shoulders, kind of indifferent to the becoming of his night. Crossing his hands behind his head, he says, “I slept through the whole thing, plus bought an Ice Tea bottle I still didn’t drink.”

Kiba frowns. He inspects him with his sharp eyes, questions hanging in the air. He ‘tsks’ again, turning around. “Keh, you lost money then. That’s a dumb move.”

“Yeah, yeah. How about coming to walk your dog at 11pm, huh? You could’ve done that in the day.” They start walking together, Akamaru playing and running around them.

“What? You can’t control when you want to take a piss y’know. Just like you can’t control your urges of going out so late in the night to spend money on things irrelevant to you.” Bickering, bickering, they take turns at picking on each other, both haircuts wild. Kiba’s built is sharp, nose straight and pointy, skin tanned and shoulders broad. Naruto has round cheeks but an acute jaw framing his face, tall and rather thin, hips roughly the same ratio as his shoulders. Walking together, arguing more than talking, they take in the fresh air of the night.

“Kiba.” Naruto says, bringing an end to the constant flow of insults. He stops his steps, looking straight into Kiba’s black eyes.

“Mh?”

“Could you… I know it’s kinda bastard of me to suddenly ask you this now, but… Could you let me crash at your house tonight?” His eyes are lit up by the yellow light of the street lamp, their intensity caging Kiba.

“What?” he interjects, confusion sweating on his features. “Man, don’t you have a place you share with Shikamaru? What’s up?” Akamaru barks, his vocals cords vibrating.

Naruto’s lips form a straight line. It looks like he’s reluctant to talk. “Yeah but, the guy’s been acting weird recently. Kinda want to give him some space.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Plus, I ain’t gon’ bother my dad at this time of the night.”

Kiba looks at him, eyes asking a million questions. “What do you mean, ‘acting weird’?” His hands furrow again in his pockets, sneakers ripping the sandy ground.

“I don’t know, man. He’s just… Been sleeping a whole lot more than usual, when up super annoyed. You could be saying whatever, he’d snap.” Naruto knows that the cigarettes piling in the ashtray are yet another sign to his unwell state. “His shortcomings don’t help.” Naruto kicks the gravel at his feet. “Plus, I, I kinda feel super irritated. Like, I don’t, I mean it’s like I can’t deal with that shit for now.” Naruto doesn’t know what he’d be without Shikamaru, but right now? He just couldn’t deal with it. And he’s so frustrated, he wants to help him so bad. Seeing his health go down so fast, seeing the black moons under his eyes increase in size, seeing the cigarettes multiply each time he blinked his eyes: it all made him so sick. He just wanted to get his friend out of that dump he threw himself in. But right now, he, too, seemed to get irritated at whatever shit came his way. Anything that didn’t go his way made him so angry. He couldn’t deal with a thing.

He felt so horrible. He couldn’t even help one of his closest friend. What the fuck.

“It ain’t the first time Shikamaru been acting this way.” Kiba follows Akamaru with his eyes, expression neutral. “Last time, it was because of Asuma.”

They stand here, next to each other, both of their respective hands hidden in their pockets, taking in the windy air. Reluctant to talk more about the matter, they are both reminiscent of the time Shikamaru engaged in self destructive behavior following Asuma’s passing.

It was ugly. Nobody wanted to bring it up.

Nobody really knew if Shikamaru had moved on. So they kept silent. But everyone noticed that the trail of ashes following him wasn’t doing him any good. Sometimes, Naruto would catch him staring at that one lighter Asuma gave him. He’d just stay silent.

Sometimes, those who grieve are nothing but gloom.

Kiba starts walking again. Naruto follows. “’Aight, I’ll let you crash. But you gotta keep your promise that you won’t comment on the state of my apartment, the place’s kinda messy.” He yaws, sharp canines glowing in the light.

“You have my word.”

“’Kay.” He turns around, forming two large circles with his hands around his mouth. Inhaling, he shouts, “Akamaru! We’re going!”

🎭

“What the fuck dude?!”

What in the actual fuck was this apartment? Even his depressed ass wouldn’t leave the house with that much fucked up shit on the floor!

“I can’t even take a step without walking on some weird as packaging!” Naruto yells, glaring at Kiba.

“You swore you’d keep your mouth shut!” Kiba growls, taking off his gray jacket. His black shirt cages his muscular chest, neck bursting out of the collar like a thick ray of sunlight. He scratches his nape, still a bit embarrassed. “The guys from the music band came in today and we had a great time. Still, they kinda messy.” He starts picking up the trash spread accross the floor.

“If you add your carnal instincts, this place sure ends up like a garbage can.” 

“Shut the fuck up.”

Naruto plops himself down the sofa, arms comfortably resting on it’s top in that dominant manner guys always seemed to position them into. He rolls his head backwards, Adam apple popping out, eyes tired. There literally was nothing more upsetting than being tired and still not being able to sleep. For whatever reason.

“You got some sweatpants for me? Didn’t come prepared for a sweet sleepover with my homeboy Kiba Inuzuka.” He follows Kiba’s movements, shoulders wide and arms strong.

He hears the ‘Keh’ he splurges out of his mouth in disgust, answering, “In my room. Wardrobe at you right.”

While he continues picking up random stuff from the confusing pattern of the floor, Naruto follows his instructions, opening the door leading to his room. 

Kiba’s room is full of band posters. Plain t-shirts are pilled on his desk chair. Stickers of all sizes and shapes are plastered on the wardrobe’s doors, ranging from grungy skulls and crossbones to smiley faces. Next to his bed – which was not done by the way – was his electric guitar. Red and cream were its colors. Naruto remembered the times when Kiba used to run his fingers across the cords: they were around seventeen, boys with broken youths. 

Kiba struggled with family matters at that time: he’d already planned an escape from the family house. He said his mother and sister were getting at his head. Said he couldn’t deal with them anymore. Those words would run from his lips like sharp wind. Back then, Naruto felt like Kiba didn’t give a fuck about his family. And so he was upset that he would even say such things about his relatives. 

But that was quite the contrary. The family was struggling financially, his sister was getting married to some guy he seemed to despise, his mother kept smocking and smocking until the living room was nothing but gray smoke. Noticing all of that shit unraveling in front of his eyes, he felt like he was the responsible guy in the house. With no dad around, a fucked up view on paternal responsibilities and a toxic view of the role of men in society, he crushed all remaining doubts, making himself the Man of the house. 

He started getting more and more conscientious of his actions, started going more and more to the library to study stuff they learned at school, took jobs here and there. He’d figured if he started taking school seriously, he’d gain access to a good college and would then would be able to have a good, sustainable job. And with jobs came money. And his family was in desperate need of money. He wanted to save them from the hellhole they fell in. He wanted to be the Hero of the story.

Unfortunately that didn’t happen.

Because he was only a teenager. And teenagers mess up. They aren’t supposed to be putting so much weight on their shoulders. They aren’t supposed to witness their mother spiraling down unhealthy coping mechanisms. Aren’t supposed to be working so late at night just to afford clothes and food.

Kiba only wanted sustainability. He wanted someone to hug when he came home scratched by life. He didn’t want to be welcomed by his mother drinking cheap wine, cigarette in her fingers.

Kiba turned into one angry motherfucker. Angry, angry. He had some anger management issues, Naruto knew that. You’d just have to look at the scars at his knuckles. Or the way his voice was always the loudest. Or the way his hair and shoulders would rise up at any displeasing comment. Or the way his eyebrows were always, always furrowed.

He wasn’t too good with the sustainability shit either. He always moved from job to job. Even though he had kept the one at the garage for a pretty long time, there were always three different variants he relied on to fill his pockets. But he couldn’t manage money. He either spent it all together on random rising desires, or kept it locked in his drawer for so long you’d believe he was turning them bills into saints. No sustainability in relationships either. His unstable childhood fucked him up.

Naruto growls.

Fuck that shit. Why did a single guitar have to bring up such memoirs. Nobody needed to reminisce the past, for fuck’s sake.

He opens the wardrobe doors, finds some random sweatpants and sets them on his shoulder to put them on in the bathroom. His wardrobe is filled with the smell of cologne. Look at all those black bottles of perfume, man. How much did he spend on those?

In the corner of his eye, Naruto catches picture frames on top of Kiba’s desk. He knows that it’s none of his business, but he’s intrigued by one picture. Just this one. On the far right.

Kiba and Hinata. And some dude with sunglasses.

“Just what the hell are you doing with my personal pics?” Kiba says, grabbing the frame from his grip. He didn’t even hear him coming in.

“Since when do you know Hinata?” Naruto puts a hand on his hip, shifting his weight to his right side.

Kiba quirks a brow. “Huh? I should be the one asking you that!” He puts the frame where it was first found, right next to the pictures of his mother and sister. Naruto wondered if he had more family. Not that he’d heard of them. “I met her at that time I took a weird ass liking for the library. She seemed so out of place and lost, plus she was cute, so I had to talk to her.” He grinned. Naruto agreed with him. Hinata sure as hell was cute. Still, it was unpleasing, hearing him say that. Hearing that come from his mouth. “She seemed to come there every afternoon. Kinda spent more time talking with her than studyin’. Maybe that’s why I failed so bad.” He laughed, a taste of sourness at the very deepness of his throat.

Still, questions hang like balloons at the blond’s head. Actually, only one.

“You was a thing? You two?” Naruto gulps down.

Kiba let’s out a giggle. “Nah. First I found her beautiful so I spent my time hitting on her. But then we just became very close friends.” His gaze glosses over her smiling face frozen in the picture, eyes veiled by an emotion Naruto couldn’t really distinguish. He doesn’t know why, but he feels like Kiba’s words don’t follow his feelings. Suspicion, hesitation. “She’s a great girl.” His jaw clenches. “Plus, Akamaru likes her. If that’s not a sign from the heavens.” He crosses his arms, smirk proud, casting shade on Naruto’s face. “Akamaru did not like you, he even bit you when we first met. That tells me that you shouldn’t have any business with her!”

“That doesn’t mean a thing! Dogs sometimes do unpredictable shit!” He points his finger to the brunette’s face, judging.

Kiba just shrugs it off with one hand. Eyebrows furrowed, he asks, “What about you? I’m close to her, I deserve details.”

Naruto irks. He didn’t deserve any details. “Fuck off dude, I just met her at my dad’s shop. They close. On top of that, she likes games, just like I do. So we kinda bonded. Anyway,” he shoves Kiba to the side, earning a curse from him. “I got pants to put on, so stop talking so much.” He exists the room, sweatpants still over his shoulders.

Akamaru barks. Kiba is left alone in front of his desk.

Reminiscing the past.

Reminiscing.

After returning from the bathroom, Naruto asks, “Man, who was the dude right next to you and Hinata? His face kinda familiar to me, but I can’t remember.” He puts a hand under his chin, features confused, brain processing.

“You serious? That’s Shino!” Kiba interjects. “Although I understand why you would be confused. That guy covers himself so much that it’s hard to tell who the fuck he is.”

Naruto’s face is painted with the colors of surprise. “I swear to God, that dude, I can’t ever recognize him.”

Kiba simply hums in response, eyes lost in the screen of the TV.

So Shino knew Hinata too huh. He’d have to ask her about that tomorrow. She’d be at his father’s shop, cuz it’s Friday. And Friday she works at the flower shop. So he can see her. Wow, he was already excited at the idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas!! i don't celebrate but i gifted you this chapter~~  
> (my inner kiba x naruto/kiba x hinata shipper jumped out in this chapter fghjsgds)


End file.
